The Lover of the Samurai
by TheHollowWorld
Summary: The story of the Heiress (Tsunade) who knew nothing, the evil General (Madara) who knew too much, and the Samurai (Kakashi) who sacrificed his life for the country that betrayed him. AU. Mature content, violence. /For the picture, thanks to @Hokagesama
1. I Wondered Lonely as a Cloud

**_"It is the stillest words that bring on the storm. Thoughts that come on doves' feet guide the world." - Nietzsche_**

* * *

The sun has not long risen when the heiress was suddenly aroused from slumber by a loud and terrific sound, for which she could in no manner account. It was of very brief duration, but, while it lasted, resembled nothing in the world of which she had any previous experience. It is needless to say that she became excessively alarmed, having, in the first instance, attributed the noise to an object within her room. She got out of bed with caution and lit a candle to examine all her belongings, however, with great attention, and could discover nothing out of order. Soon after awaking she heard more noise coming from outside but this time the sounds could be easily attributed to someone she knew; her best friend Jiraiya. With a soft smile she put on a cloak and rushed into the weak daylight where came to her view with that instant the reason of fear. Upon the ground, right at door lay a dead crow.

"Oh poor thing..." She sighed in pity and knelt at the bird. "Should we try help him?" With tender eagerness she enquired, and her bosom burnt with affection to revive the bird fallen dead and taken amidst the comforting cradle of her palms. She speculated upon the subject of the unnamable, of the unseen, of the unknown, since things as such fascinated her vividly blooming mind.

She would oftentimes be called childish as her constant talk about 'magical' things was a rather puerile device, quite against her high standing as an heiress of the most prosperous kingdom of the world.

"Don't say nonsense so early in the morning… You cannot possibly have powers, Tsunade."

His words were honest as much as they were fool's talk, for Jiraiya was a young man of strict associations and simple intuitions. Unmistakable his belief was in the fact that things could only be perceived through our five senses wherefore it was impossible to refer to any object of the world as 'magical', for everything had their proper and simple explanation.

With this friend, Tsunade oftentimes languidly disputed, the more her curiosity grew in relation to life and the lands that unfolded around her, the very root of magic she was not yet allowed to see. "You say that now, Jiraiya, but remember who healed your arm when you were trying to show off with your skills in fencing. I can easily do it again, just let me focus…" The blonde heiress insisted as she spoke, and she spoke in cunning gentleness of the heart and rigid volition of the spirit.

More focused she became, as she would never allow her instincts to fail her; it was the sole thing she would rely on ever since she was conscious of her own existence. If she felt she could revive the crow, then she would sit at her doorstep and do it relentlessly.

In all truth, it would have been a lie to declare that he was neither bewitched nor curious; the young servant of the royalty leaned closer to better observe the bird within her hands that now glowed with wild green of emerald. It was an inexplicable sight to the mere human eyes, and of those, whose religion was restricted amidst four ideological walls.

Utter quietude fell upon them as they waited, during which the eyes were so intensely fixed upon the dead animal and spirits were enflamed in faith, entrapped within the glorious moment of reanimation.

The word itself could not be more accurately used for this occasion, forasmuch it suggests the soul returning to the body and so with patience and faith in the unknown she slowly healed the motor of the small carcass, and the heart began to beat and the eyes opened and the bird was alive! It was alive!

With unmeasurable joy Tsunade freed the animal and watched it reply to the inviting calling of the illimitable sky where it belonged, and it flew away as if its life has never once been interrupted by the early swing of the Scythe.

"I knew it." Tsunade smiled victoriously and added; "I believe this is what we call magic." The heiress could not hide the smirk upon her lips as it widened the longer she gazed upon the pale blue vaults of heaven.

The case merely grew even more curious once the young servant did not answer the way she expected him to. First of all, there was no doubt she has brought back a life, notwithstanding the fact it was a tiny and fragile one. Second of all, she yet believed she was the only one capable of such doings as healing. She could not on earth imagine that her beliefs were based on false accusations about the world. With a deep sigh drawn from his lungs he spoke, and he spoke in keen frankness. "Trust me, this is most definitely not magic what you did, Tsunade!" He retorted at her persistent insistence to the notion of the unnatural.

"Why are you so small-minded? It was magic, I am certain. You saw yourself how it flew away after we thought it was dead! See, there are even some drops of blood on my hands!" The heiress' faultless features beamed in stubborn frustration and she waved with both palms in front of the young man, yet not one slight wrinkle could dissipate the unearthly beauty she was.

Jiraiya was certain she was the creation of divine testament, the child of muses and nymphs, and the very essence of what was to be called angelic. As she folded her round arms over her chest to his greatest joy she unintentionally emphasized her blooming bosom that no man's eyes could leave. And he was no different from all, and with a timid gulp he rapidly looked away.

She was his friend, they have known each other since the beginning of time, and he shan't be considering her as a woman, for she was supposed to be a sister-like creature, or something of that kind. "It is called jutsu!" His voice thickened as he raised his chin to speak, offering her a different view of his face. He believed he would most definitely appear stricter and wiser by the simple action of looking down at her, the same way the King was taught to act.

At this point, it is inevitable to note that Jiraiya did not possess the means of knowing how to actually lift his head properly to be more severe, and instead of proposing a majestic gesture he appeared to be rather hilarious, of which Tsunade's graceful laughter spoke.

He became pale while his cheeks reddened and rapidly he resumed talking. "I heard it in the village…." He began with rediscovered courage. "Apparently, there are people with 'magic' all over Konoha. The Elite troops consist of those as well who can do these things. They say innumerable jutsu exist, and it depends on your affilatio… Affi-…Aphrodisi…"

"Affiliation?" The alluring lady of the sweetest smile giggled as she tilted her head in evident wonder flashing across her innocent features. "I see…" She speculated before she resumed. "Do you think father knows jutsu too? Or perhaps uncle Tobirama?"

"I don't know, Tsunade… But I know some of the King's samurai know it." Gossip could be extremely diverting even for a man, especially when it was about two things; women or war. It would have been a grave mistake to be heard and so he continued in undertone.

"For instance the Hatake clan, those mercenaries and their leader the Lightning Prince, he knows some scary stuff. They say his blade burns deep blue as the ocean, and its touch does not draw your blood, but like thousands of bolts your skin and insides are simply…cooked! And then bam you're dead!"

Tsunade jumped with impressed cry, her palm resting upon her ribcage as if wishing to keep her heart in its place. There was a slight ascension of crimson color visiting her face the longer she speculated about the Lightning Prince's character.

"Perhaps that is why the King personally chose him for the dirty works…" Jiraiya added on a leisure tone while his mischievous eyes sought signs within hers. "There are so many rumors in the village. I wish you could hear them. You are missing a lot in here. Nobody speaks of the people of Konoha."

"Why is he called Prince? Does he belong to the same class as I do?"

The young servant wished he did not have to reveal the truth, as truth sometimes was crueler than lie itself. "No, but some people consider him their leader…Sometimes they prefer him to your father because he understands them…Because he is one of them. You are all royals…And your father has to make hard decisions which might not serve everyone's benefit." Thus, he wished to ease the words uttered with a less hurtful explanation of things, of which she must have already known.

"Oh…." Her eyes traveled upon the stone ground and a long, deep sigh was drawn from her lungs.

"I already heard some things, of the War of Creation, and how my father fought… But I am certain these are all simply accusations! My father is a great person, he is kind but he is iron-handed when it comes to ruling. Don't you agree?" As if seeking self-justification in the sight of him, eagerly she canvassed his every feature hoping she would be indeed right.

"I thought you already forgot what I said about the Three Great Swords!" He spoke with a weary groan of reluctance. Sometimes he was beyond certain he spoke too much. It was indeed hard to keep things from her, for she was his only friend in the Court, and he wished more than anything to share the striking theories that circulated in the village.

"Well…My mama says it is true, she can still see those beasts at night… And she also says that your father and uncle really impressed the ladies in the battle with their fighting skills. Perhaps after all, the swords mean something else than blade…Now that I am thinking about it….It might be the most precious possession of a man's body…"

"Oh just cut your nonsense!" Tsunade rolled her eyes in disbelief. "Who has the third Great Sword?"

"Me…" Jiraiya flashed a smirk yet it was an ephemerous joke he spoke, for he received a nudge in the ribs. His attempts to present himself as a man of many talents seemed to be futile at this point. He recruited his strength once more and regained his lively tone. "It belongs to General Madara. It was the three of them who founded Konoha, after all. Well, General Tobirama was not so much around, maybe he was chasing skirts. I wonder why they never tell you anything! I know more of your family than you do!"

Since it was indeed an abnormal case to know nothing of her own clan, to not be aware of the slightest about the secrets and truths, Tsunade sighed as his words sank in. "I am going to ask father right now!" Determined the young spirit was and her strong will guided her from the ground up on her feet.

Carefully, she fixed the heavy layers of garment of her robe, the royal kimono and the silk cloak draped around her shoulders, colored in dramatic visions of stark black and scarlet red. The floral pattern followed the curvaceous frame of her nymphal body, emphasizing her shape on the right places. She was a voluptuous feast for the eyes, even for those already engaged in love. The men of the Court quietly pondered among them if only she tasted the way she looked; if so, the first one savoring her would be doomed by the lusciously rattling chains of lust.

"No, Tsunade! Come back! I think it is a terrible idea!" Jiraiya shouted in sheer worry as the heiress rifled from the place, like a bullet shot from a gun.

The scented air surrounded the palace and the village, carrying the rich odor of flowers that's vapor blended together in perfect unison. The warm rays of the sun bathed the sight of man in soothing visions of gaiety as one looked upon the colorful canvas of Nature that sheepishly blanketed the world. The two ran upon the stone stairway and rushed past the main hallways. Servants jumped to each side to avoid stumbling into the royal and her faithful friend. Like lightning they hurried as if the matter was beyond the question of life and death.

 ** _Meanwhile..._**

Hashirama sat upon the Dragon Throne in austere comportment, with a mind benumbed by the perpetual conflict within the Court. The throne, upon which he seated, was a great, three-leaved affair that emphasized the ruler's supreme authority and significance.

Over the ample seat within its center, two great wings spread off from the central division with a high reredos. Along the top, lay and leered dragons sculpted of gold, each one swinging the scaly horror of his folded tail toward the central seat, with heads projecting outward in the air on a severe, ominous manner. Below the King's feet lay seven steps bordered by lit lanterns.

Severe Hashirama's gaze was as he looked upon the officials in front of him, his words gathered before he spoke them. "Tax Minister…"

Lord Shikaku obeyed to the summons of the King and so he stepped forward, upon the edge of the crimson rug that reached from the throne to the sliding doors of the entrance of the Hall. It was forbidden to walk upon the costly material for the Court, and so the governors stood on each side of the silk carpet during discussions. "Yes, Your Highness." His voice was deep an coarse, the same will of fire darkening his large orbs.

"Did I not command you to reintroduce the tax reform bill?"

"Sir…If you change the law overnight, the burden on landowners will become unbearable. Do not discriminate them, they are your loyal subjects, too." Demurely he ventured to reply as his gaze traveled upon the King's face. His boldness was not rewarded, yet Shikaku stood firm for his beliefs.

It was not yet time to submerge into extreme measures for the kingdom was in the shoes of a child and there was yet progress to achieve.

"Taxing ten bags of rice for those who own ten patches of rice paddy and one bag of those who own only one, how is that discrimination?" The King asked and so his question was presently answered.

"We allow our lands to be used by other nations, Sir. Sunagakure is already in severe debt with us, if you want to force this law on our people, you must do the same to other nations' as well."

"One of our prisoners is the magistrate of Konoha, who extorted money from the commoners. The officials who took bribes from him, and those who took bribes from those officials….I shall hear all their names. Which of you can swear that he didn't receive from that man? Tax Minister!"

Lord Shikaku stepped forward once more. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"Those who abuse King's tribute for usury shall be punished severely."

"As His Majesty orders." The raven-crowned official bowed and returned to his place; albeit he did not bat his eyes upon the one in front of him, he knew well about Lord Danzo's nasty affairs in relation to this sensitive subject. Traitors resided among the four walls of the palace, and it was yet burdensome to find those in time.

The Minister of Interior Affairs was no different from those longing for the sweet taste of treachery, when the amount of money for their crimes could be weighed in kilograms. While people starved for natural nourishments, creatures like him ceased their hunger by the smell of gold.

"Justice Minister."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Lord Homura stepped forward.

"Have all their magistrate open their repositories and return all rice and linen back to the people. I command my trusted Council to have uniform land and tax law enforced immediately that refers to every landowner, our people or foreigners included. Anyone that obstructs the execution of this decree shall be punished with utmost severity."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Father!" The doors were thrown open and the heavenly frame of the heiress bathed the rigid mind of the Court in luscious visions. Lord Shikaku cleared his throat in puzzled response to the lady's appearance.

He only wished his son was a little older, only to make him the subject of marriage. Shikamaru was only two years old, yet deep inside, his father hoped he would grow as a mushroom before it was too late.

"This is not the time, Tsunade." Hashirama rose from his chair, and albeit he was supposed to scold the child, his heart never led him in such direction.

Jiraiya stopped at the entrance and before being caught, unnoticed he fled from the scene.

The young angel bowed in evident shame plastering upon her face and politely she remained until she was allowed to lean back up. "I apologize….I did not know…I must have forgotten…I apologize, father." Humble she was and amidst rushed apologies she too hastened from the place. Halted she was not, luckily, for she would have possibly sunk under the earth in embarrassment if her father directed any further words to her in that very moment.

Hashirama drew a deep, burdened sigh from the back of his throat and motioned with his hand to the Court to dissolve. Everyone left except Lord Madara, his most trusted General. "Your speech stood on solid ground. You shan't be afraid of the reaction of the people."

"That is not what worries me, Madara-sama." Hashirama replied as he fixed the garment of his long cloak. His eyes spoke of deeply rooted concern for the one most treasured to him.

"Your daughter?" The dark-crowned warrior looked upon his friend. Friend he was not, for the handsome features of the samurai were mere disguise of his cruelty.

He had eyes sharp as a hawk's, and a character venomous as a viper's. He was the man of wicked games and profoundly he enjoyed the one he played with the King. "You have mentioned me before she is to be wedded when she turns 18."

"Yes…But no one I found fitting for her. You do know she needs to be looked after…I couldn't possibly bear seeing her suffer because of our crime…" He spoke in hushed and uneasy tone for his spirit was tainted in strokes of heavy remorse.

"There is only one month left and she is to be an adult by rules. She is too pure; I kept her on a short leash. She fantastically associates things with every-day events, she dreams like her mother and that is more than alarming. She needs to stay here and never leave this place."

"In that case, I shall offer myself to marry her. I know your family better than anyone and we have done things nobody dares dream of. I can take care of her."

"You are twice her age, Madara-sama…." Hashirama began as another sigh followed his loud speculations. "However….You are right." He said with eyebrows furrowed together in deep contemplation. "I will talk to Tobirama, when he returns."

"He doesn't trust me the way you do, that is clear even to me." The dark-crowned warrior responded calmly, his voice cool as the cold winter wind. "Nonetheless, I understand the necessity of that conversation."

Hashirama nodded sorrowfully. "I still believe we should have told her the truth sooner. Not about what we have done…That shan't ever be found out…" He shuddered at the memory that had lingered hideously in the back of his mind—all the more hideous for it was so secret.

"You mean her father, don't you?"

"Yes. I wish she was mine. I loved her mother more than anyone. What has happened was…" There was an alien pause of stillness between his words. For a brief moment the King's spirit weighed a hundred tons of guilt for the past was darker than certain shadows of the day.

Lies and compromises, decisions and sacrifices that could not be undone, that could not be changed nor altered. The present became more bearable by them, at least, and that idea consoled his often agitated soul. "What matters is that I love her as my own. I hope she will understand." At last there was a shiver ran unnoticed through the King, who had moved very near, yet his feelings remained undeterred.

"Indeed." Madara nodded agreeing, while the sole thing he cared about was the seat not far from him. He would take it one day, and that day approached more rapidly than one assumed so. "You should go find her. She wanted to talk to you, after all."

"You are right." Hashirama nodded and with a light bow of polite gesture he walked out of the Hall.

The raven lord waited patiently until his opponent left and so he seated himself upon the soft material of the Dragon Throne. With crossed legs he sat, his long slim fingers exploring gracefully the ornated carvings of the royal chair. During such indulgence, his eyes slowly closed, and with a deep inhalation he filled his lungs with the scent of power. It was a rich, sickening odor of responsibilities and inevitable carnage, since bloodshed he coveted in every cell of him.

He shall bathe his katana in the flesh of his 'friend' and take what is rightfully his; _the kingdom_. Madara shivered at the mere thought as it slipped into his mind in forms of vivid visions. He could not quite decipher how effortlessly his plans succeeded and had the King wrapped around his finger from the very first time they encountered at the opposite sides of the river.

Hashirama had a warm heart, -he was too good, it drove him dizzy and disgusted. He loathed even more the fact that he was stronger than him; no matter how he put it, the ruler with the candid smile had immeasurable strength and stamina with what not even the evil lord could compete.

 _If only his last trickery of killing Tobirama on the battlefield was successful, he would be one step closer to his prize. If only…_

"You should get off that chair before someone notices you." Presently spoke a voice familiar to the lord.

"Orochimaru." Madara frowned with a light change of his features. The saturnine visage followed his every move as he got off the throne and appeared in front of his accomplice. "Do you have news of the other Senju?"

"Your plan to advise the King to send his Elite troops to defend the border was rather cunning, I must say." The serpent-like creature released a macabre chuckle as he then resumed. "I made sure he would not return. Do not worry."

"Very well, then. We shall proceed to the next step, in this case."

 ** _Meanwhile..._**

The vanishing echoes of a loud thud and lingering cry lured the King past the main hallway, right to his daughter's chamber. Ever so cautious he was as he stepped in, and at the casual inspection of her room it seemed rather deserted. "Tsunade?"

Deliberate he was in motions as he walked around and by degree he began to detect the presence sought so dearly in a clearer fashion. The child lay upon the ground amidst pillows and scrolls, as if looking for something so vigorously before vertigo claiming her consciousness. With stability lost, she fell against the ebony shelves and pulled everything with her.

Carefully he lifted her up and placed her upon the soft sheets of the futon. It was not the first time nor was the last, the King certain about the prevalence of the incident. Soon as he waited, there was a hint of motion of her hand which brought a single light of hope into his spirit.

More joyous he grew when the reason of his happiness opened her eyes and beheld him amidst weary blinks. "Father? What happened?"

"You swooned…" His answer was not surprising although her voice was tainted in remnants of profound disappointment. These accidents were too frequent, and she refused to be weak.

"Again?"

"Yes, child. What made you excited that could not wait?" He sat beside her upon the tender ground as he watched her every motion.

"I apologize, father…Interrupting you was so childish of mine… I am soon to be 18, and yet I tend to behave so immaturely…"

"You are just like your mother, lively and happy. I am only thankful for that. So speak now, what was the matter so urgent for you?"

"I wanted to ask….If you believe in magic?"

"Magic you say?" The King elevated his forehead into innumerable wrinkles as he stopped to ponder about the answer, if there was any he wished to unveil.

What to make of all this, of course he knew not. Curiosity was the inner work of the spirit; however he has done everything to make sure nothing would raise questions within her, especially not of these kinds.

The greatest care had been taken to preserve her seclusion which seemed to be in all vain. He could not concern her with the complexities of life; therefore his answer was of the same nature. "Such things do not exist. Everything you see is real, the rest is simply the trickery of mental illness. Of nonsense and imaginary foolishness."

Disappointed she was in the reaction of her father for the glow in his eyes did not match the sound of his mutterings.

"The spirit, in order to cause all the manifestations attributed to it, cannot be limited by any of the laws of matter; why is it extravagant to imagine bewitching things in shapes—or absences of shapes—which must for human spectators be utterly and appallingly 'unnamable'?" She began as she recruited her boldness and stood firm with her own opinion formed.

She then resumed as the King listened with keen attention. "'Common sense' in reflecting on these subjects,…" She then assured him with some warmth, "…was merely a stupid absence of imagination and mental flexibility."

As they spoke, the first strokes of twilight had slowly approached, but neither of them felt any wish to cease speaking.

Hashirama seemed unimpressed by her insistent arguments, and was very eager to refute them one by one, having that confidence in his own opinions which had doubtless caused his success as a ruler; whilst she was too sure of her ground to fear defeat.

The dusk fell without hesitation, and lights faintly gleamed in some of the distant windows, but they did not move from the silky surroundings of the futon.

Their seat upon the several layers of such exquisite material was very comfortable, and she knew that for once she was able to engage herself in such passionate conversation with her father; something that could not happen so commonly for the King was always too busy with the duties of a royal.

"And what about the War you fought?" I was told your swords are special and that there was a giant dragon that brought the luck upon us…" There was a ceaseless interest in her voice that shackled the King from keeping his rigid countenance as they spoke.

"Who told you that?!" The likelihood of her going to discover every rumor her mind was filled with, grew more menacing the longer he denied them. With a deep, drawn sigh his gaze rested upon her faultless visage and syllables of great tales rolled down his tongue.

He granted, for the sake of argument that some unnatural monsters might had really existed, but reminded her that even the most morbid perversion of Nature need not be _unnamable_ or scientifically indescribable.

The heiress admired his clearness and persistence that she too identified in her own character, and added some further revelations she had collected from Jiraiya who collected it among the old people of the village.

Those later spectral legends, she made plain, related to monstrous apparitions more frightful than anything organic could be; apparitions of gigantic bestial forms with different number of tails sometimes visible and sometimes only tangible, which floated about on moonless nights and haunted the world since the world has been shared among the Five Great Nations.

"Who tells you these things, child?" His clear, practical, and logical intellect sounded through his voice as he spoke ever so calmly. "Your mind is being filled with the wrong ideas about life."

"Well…Does it matter? Can you tell me I am wrong? And the jutsu?" She provoked further answers from the elder who by now seemed puzzled by her unwanted knowledge of certain horrible things of Nature.

"The Jutsu?" He repeated as if not once in his life he had the word came up to his ears, as if not once in his life he had encountered the true meaning of the short utterance of it.

"Yes, father! Techniques of the mesmerizing kind that only people with special spirit can do! Can you do jutsu father? Can uncle Tobirama do them? Are you afraid of the Hatake clan because their leader can perform it too?"

Convulsions of agitation seized her spirit as she was on the verge of crying; invisible tears bathed her eyes for the more refusal her questions met, the clearer it became she knew nothing of the world, she was dumb as a parrot, repeating only that was told to her.

"You have to stop listening to these nonsenses, Tsunade! This is beyond madness!" He fumed as he spoke but not because he was upset with her but because he feared for the sole heir of the throne dearly; the second she found out the truth, she shan't be protected from the sinister fate she was cursed with. The cruel predictions he himself caused in order to restore peace in the Land of Fire.

As he remained speaking, she had to face the simple truth; with him, all things and feelings had fixed dimensions, properties, causes, and effects; and although he vaguely knew that the mind sometimes held visions and sensations of far less geometrical, classifiable, and workable nature, he believed himself justified by drawing an arbitrary line and ruling out of court all that cannot be experienced and understood by the average villager. Besides, he was almost sure that nothing can be really 'unnamable'. It didn't sound sensible to him.

Though she well realised the futility of imaginative and metaphysical arguments against the complacency of the King, something in the scene of this afternoon colloquy moved her to more than usual contentiousness. Jiraiya was always eager to tell these tales to her, she would go after all that was told and find out what was true, indeed.

"I have to check twice who you encounter during your classes. You are supposed to learn everything a young woman of your age must, for soon you are to be betrothed. General Madara will fear for the sanity of your mind once you speak such things instead of tending your chores. Do you know how to sew? How to cook? How to sing? Did you learn everything I ordered you to?"

"Yes but…."

"Until you perfect everything, I don't want to hear more of your theories. You will be ridiculed if anyone hears you, Tsunade. That is why I cannot possibly consider you leaving this palace. What would happen if you opened your mouth among the people? They would think you are insane, child."

"But I…I healed…I…" She began yet it seemed her voice was stuck in her throat; she whispered and muttered and desperately she wished to bring sound into the shallow noises, yet there was nothing but the burning sensation of betrayal. For she felt betrayed, indeed.

"Rest, Tsunade. We have spoken too much; time has passed above our heads as you can see." He offered a warm smile upon his fatigued face and stroked her cheek. "Have a good night, child. I will see you tomorrow after the Discussion." At last he spoke and rose from the ground, his steps hastened with the burdensome urge of remorse. All he did was lie to her, and so did each and every member of the Court. She did not know who she was, what she was, nor had the slightest idea of her parents. Everything was for her sake; he consoled his spirit as he walked away. Everything was for her sake.

Absurdly careless those became who were moved by certain emotions of tremendous intensity. She could not think clearly anymore, for it would have contained some sort of common sense she had gradually lost the longer the discussion lasted. She never once questioned her father's thoughts from motives of respect and love, yet in this moment she felt she could not believe him any longer. Observantly, she glanced around and quietly she called out. "Jiraiya! I know you are around. Come out!"

Of course he was. The youngster stepped out of the Cherrywood closet and hurriedly fixed his countenance. "How did you know I was here?"

"You always hide there, besides, there is no other place in where you would fit." She rose from the ground and stepped to him decidedly. "Give me your clothes. I am going to sneak out and find out the truth myself."

"Wha-…?" Jiraiya's astonishment was greater than the walls of China and his cheeks once more betrayed his embarrassment. Did he shave properly today? Did he apply enough incense to smell pleasant? He must have sweated too much during the time of hiding, what if….

He could speculate not any longer as the heiress began to undress in front of him. Hesitating profoundly to turn or not, he rapidly turned his gaze away and followed the strict command of the royal. "You do not want me to wear your dress, do you?"

"It is exactly what I want, Jiraiya." She began as deliberately she reached for the garments of his robe. "You will stay here and pretend to be sleeping. I will be back by dawn, hopefully."

"Hopefully?!" The idea of hope scared him to no end, for it held the possibility of having to be caught in her garments which would further other unnecessary accusations. He had no choice, although, had he?

"All right, how do I look?" Her slim fingers gathered her long silky hair in a bun as questioningly she met his gaze.

"You are beautiful as always." Jiraiya answered while he could have been the notion of ridiculousness.

"Thank you." With a candid smile offered she left him standing there in her royal garments, the young man frozen to the ground of momentary bewitchment. "Take care Tsunade…Don't do anything stupid…" He sighed and he sighed with the purest worry of a man's heart for the one he loved.


	2. Acquainted with the Night

_**Author's Note: New crack pairing, be warned and I hope you enjoy! :)**_

 _ **"It is not the truth that needs people, but people who need the truth." - Kierkegaard**_

* * *

Coming for the umpteenth time upon the town, he watched in dull excitement the sunrise from a bridge he crossed by, that was majestic above its waters, its incredible peaks and pyramids rising flower-like and delicate from pools of violet mist to play with the flaming golden clouds and first strokes of the day.

The serpent's impatience had been gradual. For long hours and with great frequency he consulted his watch and wondered at his delay, as delay was not necessarily surprising to him, however the case was more than critical to his master.

The advisor did not half like to wait so long in the feeble light of daybreak in such a place. And 'in such a place' was the very reality of the village his master was supposed to serve, the very reality of humanity whom he regarded as mere cockroaches inciting to be stepped over.

Then, as he pondered and he did ponder about such, he sensed a soft tread or tapping on the walk outside the small, wooden door, heard a gentle fumbling at the rusty latch, and saw the narrow, heavy gates swing inward. And in the pallid glow of the single dim street-lamp he strained his eyes to see what was on the way.

His lips curled in satisfied wrinkles and he watched the samurai gradually lead his way towards him.

"Get out of my garden. You are on my territory, Cobra." Kakashi was by no means delighted to see the face with inhuman features that was chiselled by the abnormality within the sharp eyes and sinister grin of the mouth.

"My my, and the king was yet worried for you." Orochimaru followed the wounded warrior through the stoned path that led from the entrance through the flowery patches of green, right to the neatly built home.

The samurai stepped on his tracks in that instant, and presently, he answered to the serpent-like creature. "In all honesty, I have this hunch that the past few orders might have not been from the King himself, were they? How on earth someone would ask such cruel tasks to be carried out, especially if people speak of him as a saviour?" Albeit his words were fierce as the blade of his katana, Kakashi was by nature reserved and so he preserved his cool even in the most agitated situations.

"Yet you still obey his orders." There was a sordid stroke that brushed across the advisor's face as he ventured to reply. His fingers slipped into his pocket and with that very motion he handed over a bag of coins to the other. "Here, your emolument. 30 coins as we agreed upon it."

"30 coins worth that man's life you asked me to kill on the frontline? You feel no shame, do you?"

Orochimaru tilted his head to one side as he observed the features of the other in front of him; nonetheless, his voice was sharp and severe, it was an effortless task for him to make the samurai know where he belonged to, and that was amidst the peasants. "Should I be the one tainted in shame, or the person who accepts the money after murder?"

There was a stir of pride from the samurai that dissipated as rapidly as it came; his missions were their only income, the sole source of money. His son had to be fed, his wife had to be able and buy whatever she fancied at the market. His deep stark eyes narrowed as he grabbed the bag of coins and counted the amount.

"We have….The King has a new task for you. Here, another scroll with his signature." The serpent advisor unfolded the cautiously sealed parchment and allowed a short time or so for the warrior to read what had to be done.

"Who is this magistrate?" He asked as he read, the fat amount of emolument ringing shrilly in his palm. Kakashi loathed the power of money for power it had, above everyone and everything. He was no different from the curse of depending on the silver promises and dreams. Dreams he indeed had had many, yet all was prolonged or undreamt the more time passed above his head.

"You do not need to know. We…The King needs you to kill this person today, after he passes on his decree early this afternoon. The prisoner is rather a nuisance, and what he asks of you precisely to make it seem if it was suicide. He needs your expertise. Your reward shall be another bag of those."

"Does he even care what has happened to his brother?" Kakashi did not feel loquacious, yet this matter he could not stop feeling bothered about. At some degree, he felt an incessant remorse for the crime he has done, while the scroll he had got before stated clearly the intentions of the King. He even saw the very same line of strokes of each Kanji, there could be no mistake.

"Of course he does." Orochimaru nodded with no glimpse of honesty in his voice or eyes. It was simply unnecessary for him to pretend any longer. "Did you make sure nobody saw you being one of us?"

"On the battlefield it is easy to mistake your comrades with the opponent. Nobody has seen me. It is impossible. I am the best, around. You would know it if you actually paid attention to the villagers, or if you had ever participated in a war."

During a brief moment Kakashi battled whether he felt pity or even more profound disdain towards the man standing in front of him; he was an unpopular fellow without the utmost doubt, whom everybody simply shunned and at whom all the dogs barked singularly whenever appearing upon the streets of Konoha for matters of business.

It was not merely due to his appearance but also to his uncanny character that bred such repulsive sentiment in anyone he encountered. But business was business, and to a samurai whose soul was in his profession, there was a lure and a challenge about every task given which were oftentimes tainted in perniciousness.

"Kakashi?" Her sweet warm voice filled the air and mingled with the dubious atmosphere that has surrounded the two men. Careful she was the way she acted, her footfalls gracious and deliberate, her voice soft like the touch of feathers, small things that added to her tenderhearted character.

In desire to avoid needless explanations during her unexpected presence, Kakashi's eyes prompted answers for a quiet and unostentatious departure. "I'll take it. Now go." He whispered and the serpent vanished with the same swiftness he intruded their ground.

"What did he want? Another job?" Her eyes bespoke of concern as worriedly she canvassed her husband's vestiture which was besprinkled in thick, rich amount of blood. She stepped to him and with careful trails of her fingers she caressed his cheeks. "I heard the noises outside…I thought I would come see what was going on…"

"You should have stayed in bed. It is yet early." He replied as at last he looked at her, his fatigued eyes betraying the true feelings of the samurai.

Rin knew that questions were futile, as answers were forbidden to be formed, words that conveyed wicked truth that unveiled the minutely disguised nature of his work. Thus, if she wished to be useful, the only thing she could do was to be by his side whenever he returned home, especially if he returned home. "I will brew some tea for you if you wish, while you clean yourself…" Her hands rested upon his chest as she spoke candidly, with voice prudent and consoling.

"That would be good, thank you, Rin." Kakashi nodded as he answered and the woman returned to the protective walls of their home to busy herself in the kitchen. He took a slow, deep breath in order to clear his mind. Efficient it was not quite, since feeble recollections from the back of his head shadowed his spirit.

The ground upon which he stood, the garden within which he remained, the sight of his old world of childhood came upon his mind very suddenly. Absent-minded he became as he was looking at the house where he was born; the great wooden house covered with ivy, where five generations of his ancestors had lived, and where he had hoped to die.

It was quick to come, in his tortured ears there sounded unceasingly a nightmare whirring and flapping, and a faint, distant baying as of some gigantic hound. It was not dream—it was not, he feared, even madness—since too much has already happened to give him these merciful doubts.

It was not a dream—it was not, as the hound was the body of the horribly dismembered victims, or warriors, or men, and the distant baying was the voice of those shrill screams and cries that had filled the battlefield. Tangible the phantasm stood in front of him, hundreds of pairs of eyes of those he had killed. Kakashi shut his eyes and shook his head as if to eradicate the smallest notion of truth of it.

He then looked around and canvassed the scene in front of him. His home. The guilt was gone. There was nothing there, anymore. With another deep breath taken the samurai stepped inside, carefully freeing his feet from his boots drenched in glary essence of Nature.

Early it was yet the moon already shared the illimitable sky with the first rays of the sun.

As instinctively he looked to the right, he found his wife patiently standing at the kitchen counter, her fingertips sending musical pats to the tough surface of the furniture as she waited for the water to boil.

Their gazes met as they gazed at each other, upon both visage sign of sweet smile slipping through. Kakashi headed from the entrance through the narrow hallway to the bathroom on account of the rich stench of decay which enveloped him. Sometimes he wondered how she could bear the sight of him like that, or what it took for her to love someone with paramount loyalty towards the King and no one else.

The sight of the wooden bathtub pleased him to unknown length; the mere idea of ridding himself from the bitterness of life rapidly annihilated any soul-upheaving thoughts that frequented his spirit like madmen bars. The water was warm and still and pure. It was everything a samurai's soul was not. There was a deep sigh drawn from his lungs, as leisurely he blinked a few times while his body relaxed within the tub. He could most certainly fall asleep there, he speculated with eyes fixed upon the ceiling. Nothing has changed since he was born; small cracks upon the walls were the only carriers of the elapsing time.

His fears came true without himself noticing it; by degrees he fell asleep in the slowly cooling water of the bath. First, it was the heavy sensation of the eyelids, and then the waves of insurmountable fatigue washing over his every limb. At last, it was the wickedly benumbed mind whence no thoughts could be furthered any longer. He gave in to the calling of the other side, to the unconscious, to a land of stark night with no visions.

It was not the cool breeze that shook him back to sanity or the water that has gone chilly by the time he awake but it was something much more vigorous, lively and cheerful. At first he noticed a faint, cunning chuckle in the background that invited his brain back to work. His eyes reopened when a sudden sensation of feeble pain struck him awake. "What are you doing, my boy?"

"I thought Papa was dead, so I pulled your hair to see if it was true…" Shuya stepped into his sight with his head hung in guilt. The child's skin was stroked only a few times by the rigidity of winter yet he was more mature than those of his age. "Did I hurt Papa?"

"No, son. You just surprised me." Kakashi offered a warm-hearted smile to the boy who sheepishly stood there, his chin still low with gaze fixed upon the ground. "Can you get me the towel, Shuya?"

With recruited energy the boy nodded and grabbed the heavy garment of the large, folded towel from the shelf. He was to be a tall man once he grew up, yet at this moment he still struggled with the disadvantageous characteristics of childhood. Upon his tiptoes he stood and with signs of his success his features returned to once more lively.

"Thank you, son." With a swift motion he dried himself while the child languidly observed his parent.

Slowly he tilted his head from one side to another as if in deep contemplation, which was an odd occurrence among those of his age. "Papa, you look different than I do."

"What do you mean, my child?" He asked with curiosity filled voice while he wrapped the material around his waist.

"Those scars, Papa." Shuya frowned as he lifted up his own small shirt and revealed the faultless canvas of his body. "See, it is different."

"When you grow up, it is very likely you will look just like me, Shuya." He spoke on a demure tone while the young one outstretched his arms in impatient gesturing of being picked up.

Whereas he was loved dearly, he never needed to ask something so many times; before more seconds passing on, Shuya was already in his father's arms. "If I become a samurai like you, I can have these?"

"Yes. It is inevitable."

"Why?" With keen interest he listened to his father's every word while they left the bathroom at last. By this time, morning has long broken out upon the bright blue vaults of heaven and the red rays of the burning sun warmed the lands of the world.

"Well, let me see…" He did not wonder long before words were told with candid intention and rigid severity. "Do you remember what I said before about the Way of the Warrior?"

Shuya nodded and recited. "To sacrifice one's life for the sake of his master is an unchanging principle. That I should be able to go ahead of all the other warriors of this country and lay down my life for the sake of my master's benevolence, is an honour to my family."

"Exactly, my child." Kakashi's pride was evident from the way he looked at his son. "There is more to it, however. Those, who are reluctant to give up their lives and embrace death, are not true warriors. You must engage in combat fully determined to die and you shall stay alive; wish to survive in the battle and you will surely meet death. When you leave the house determined not to see it again, you will come home safely; when you have any thought of returning, you will not return."

"So you always go away, knowing you will possibly die?" Shuya sighed as he folded his arms around his father's neck; the cold tip of his nose brushed the elder's cheek as tenderly he planted a kiss upon it.

"Yes." To answer, it was easy. But, to understand the answer for those who did not share the same religion, it was an impossible request.

"Are you two talking about work again?" Rin's smile faded little when the two showed up at last in the kitchen. The tea's fresh smell filled the atmosphere and gave a cunning notion to the bright room while her heart was burdened with disquietude.

"Shuya was just curious so I answered him." Kakashi replied on a reserved tone, respectful towards her worries.

Oftentimes she pleaded and sighed and argued the question of the future of their son; to Kakashi it was clear as crystal that their child would follow his footsteps the same way he did when young. As for Rin, safety came first, and albeit she was too a daughter of a warrior, her heart beseeched for a different fate destined to Shuya.

In order to cease these futile disputes, a silent vow was exchanged between the two; none of them would pressure the sole fruit of their love about choosing his own path, instead his questions would be answered yet the decision would remain singularly in his own hands.

The samurai put down Shuya upon the ground while he spoke. "I didn't find anything to wear…"

"I know-…" She began as she turned to face him. "There is one garb hanging outside…Some stain did not come out of the keikogi, and the outfit you took off today could not be saved, I threw it out."

"Oh…I see…I will get new ones. I apologize."

"Or you could just…" She took a deep breath and repressed the last words of the sentence as she bit upon her tongue.

The sudden change of atmosphere induced the child to leave them be, and rapidly he hurried out to the garden to get the uniform of his father's. At least he could make himself useful around him, for they could scarcely ever spend quality time together.

Kakashi took a deep breath as in perfect control of his emotions and of his each and every thought, albeit they harboured within his brain like poisoned rats seeking exit. His eyes, in the meanwhile, carefully followed his son's every motion through the large window of the kitchen. "We have talked about this too many times, Rin."

She nodded as she remained quiet yet she knew not how long it would take until her heart's desire would flood her throat with painful words. In all honesty, truth was rarely ever pure and not once simple.

"Papa, I brought you clothes!" Shuya hurried back, his cheerful voice ringing in the air like birds singing happy tones of primaveral melody.

"Thank you Shuya." Kakashi patted the top of his head and took the folded garments from him.

"Iruka is coming over, he said he needed to talk to you. You should put those on before he arrives." Rin pursed her lips together as she finished talking and stillness pervaded the room.

It was quiet as amidst the graves during a cold pale night. None of them furthered a word as both were tired with such emotions tormenting their hearts. Her betraying eyes followed him to the hall as he at last, did what was kindly requested and vanished amidst the walls.

Before she could have grown lost in profound contemplation, the outer gates opened and the familiar footsteps foretold the arrival of the one they expected.

"Good morning, Rin." Iruka offered a candid smile as he waved politely when he stepped into the cosy little home, carrying the essence of carefree dreams and joyous visions within his demeanour. "Hey Shuya! You have grown haven't you? When was the last time I saw you?" His eyes beamed in bright lights of life and there was an everlasting smile naturally carved upon his face.

"You saw me yesterday, Iruka-san!" Shuya shook his head since he battled dearly to diminish the impulse of laughter. He wanted to appear just as serious and composed as his father was, albeit as a child he was, he ended up with a wholehearted chuckle.

"Shuya, please go and find your father, and tell him Iruka is here." Rin ordered on a motherly tone and unconsciously she mirrored the smile of her son. The worry upon her delicate features yet remained, which she truly hated, whereas it invoked concern in those who cared for her. She was seldom a useless woman; she was fragile but easily outsmarted anyone that approached with wicked intentions. Also, she was a daughter of a samurai; she knew a few things about self-defence.

"Is everything all right, Rin?" Iruka whispered in undertone as he stepped closer to her. Close he was indeed, perhaps a little too near to the other. His warm, deep marron eyes sought the sight of her bewitching orbs, while his fingers lifted her chin up ever so slowly. It was a sensual moment for the two, these stolen seconds in tight closeness, where nothing was yet worthy to disturb the magic of wanton desires.

Rin lifted her hand up in a dull, composed motion and placed it upon his, her heart beating at the rhythm of sinful memories of the not so distant past. "He is just… You should have seen him coming home this morning." She sighed as so dearly she wished to look away, yet such idea remained amidst the things undone. "I don't know for how long I can take this."

"Don't I make it a bit more bearable?" Iruka smiled tender-heartedly while the flickering lights of shame within his heart could not compare to the fierce flames of affection.

He was in love with Rin since the first time they were introduced to each other.

Before she could have truly replied, the young wife of a confused heart stepped away instinctively and forced a smile upon her lips. "You look great." They were not alone anymore.

"Thank you, my love." Kakashi mirrored her smile, albeit his was honest. "Iruka, tell me the news!" As he spoke, he grabbed a red ripen apple from the short-legged table and straightened his back as he waited for his friend to talk.

"We thought we would go out tonight and have some fun at Ichiraku's courtesan house. We were wondering if you joined us, Guy and Asuma need to talk to you about the last missions on the northern part of the borders. You were away when they brought the news; General Madara's clan showed up out of the blue and basically attacked us."

"We are supposed to be on the same side with those Uchihas." Kakashi raised his eyebrow as confusion plastered on his flawless face. The samurai glanced at his wife, within his eyes the unvoiced orders easily readable.

Rin bowed politely and left the room, for any information about work was strictly forbidden to be revealed to anyone else.

As she vanished, Kakashi resumed. "Something is not right with the royals, I am telling you, Iruka. During the past month or so we are having the strangest of commands from the King. The King we all believe in and vowed to die for. But…" He shook his head as he was at loss of words. "I got a mission for tonight. I will join you after, and we can talk about it in more details. I need all of you for what I have in mind."

"You want to rebel?" Iruka's eyes widened for a brief moment, his forehead besprinkled in deep strokes of wrinkles as he was ever so aghast.

"No. My father served the same person I do. I would never go back on my vow. I think someone is trying to betray him. In the Court. And that person is the one giving us orders that lead us against each other. However, we cannot do anything; we cannot refuse the commands given to us until we are certain of it. Or I might be wrong, as it is just a mere hunch." He warned.

"When are you leaving to this mission?"

Kakashi speculated a second or so and answered. "After dusk. I shan't be long, it is a simple mission. I will meet you at the house, alright? Just don't let Guy drink much sake, he gets too enthusiastic with the geisha. We are the best for a reason. I want your names praised for you are all excellent fighters."

"Thank you. For always thinking high of us." Iruka offered a smile while he was confused whether it was from his heart or a well-practised façade to disguise his true feelings he was not supposed to feel.

"Of course. We are all family. Or something like that." Kakashi chuckled as at last he finished the ripen apple.

 _ **Several hours later, at night...**_

The air was not quite so pure as before, but the spirit of the place had not changed. The time appointed for the ruthless deed has passed and the world once more resumed to its rigid stillness. The scent of blood filled the air, the feeble stench of murder languidly lingered in the cold breeze of the starry sky. The murderer's footfalls were unvoiced and thus no sound broke the magic of repose. Agile he was the way he rushed past the Royal rooftops upon escaping. The blade glistened in the dim light of the moon, the blood carefully wiped to leave no trace behind.

And then, out of nowhere came the unexpected. _He heard a noise_. It was a single sound, a numb ringing that came upon his ears. It was sudden. It came and went as it arrived. In that instant, the most frightening suspicions were to come alive; his eyes caught the sight of someone, upon the other side of the roofs.

 _He was seen. The samurai was caught in act._

Rapidly he changed his direction and as a hunter, he sought his prey with the utmost carefulness. The shadowy shape seemed by no means familiar with escape, as repeatedly the feet slipped and it caught itself hanging, as if begging to be seen.

' _What an easy target',_ Kakashi thought as he effortlessly jumped past the richly ornated hipped roofs, with each step closer to meet the person with its fate. With one swift motion, he drew his katana out of its sheath when he was close enough. He would leave the body in the forest. There was no other way, he was seen.

The samurai raised his weapon in the air, ready for the kill. It was one single slash and it would be all over. The victim was right in front of him, fighting for stability upon the majestic work of carpenters. He made up his mind, he was ready. With a quick motion, he released the power of the katana, the very same time the person slipped.

On sudden impulse, his hand reached for the one falling and caught it before it was too late. There came a gasp of surprise as she did not expect to be saved. She tilted her head upwards to meet the one letting her live, for she had but the slightest of idea about the true intentions of the man above her.

His eyes widened at the sight of her as she stared deep into his eyes. It was like a sudden shock of lightning paralyzing his brain. Even under the feeble light of the cold pale moon, she appeared to be unnaturally beautiful.

"Could you pull me back up?" She asked as slowly she was losing her strength to keep holding onto his hand.

"Oh yes…Yes of course." Upon seizing his consciousness, Kakashi pulled her back upon the summit of the royal building, the girl falling on him with a clumsy motion. He would have sworn he blushed, since never in his life before he was in such a confusing situation.

The girl was cloaked, and so his fingers reached for the edge of the thick cotton hood, for the sole reason of lifting it off her head. He did not think, he was certain, as later he wished to recall this very moment of time, all that came was blankness.

Her long, silken crown was lit by the stars as it fell upon her back and its edge, like soft brushes stroked archly the chest of the samurai. "Can you please get off me?" He whispered while the singular notion of speaking seemed rather difficult for him.

"Oh yes, of course!" She blushed as she talked and rapidly lifted herself off him. She ventured to resume, yet her throat was met by the cold kiss of his blade.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same, from you." She cocked her eyebrow as she spoke with recruited courage. "I am trying to flee."

"You couldn't be more loud, the way you staggered onwards on the roof. I wonder if these guardians of the castle are actually deaf."

"I will laugh at your cocky comment if you kindly draw the sword away from my neck." She retorted without the slightest of hesitation while she too knew her life was delicate. "Please? Help me get away from here."

"Why? What is your name?"

"My name...?" Tsunade hesitated at this point; what if this menacingly handsome person was trying to kill her or someone in the palace? What if he was an evil soldier of the night that came and went as a shadow, of whom legends were written, or perhaps he was one of the tailed beasts people gossiped about! Since she lacked creativity in pressuring moments, she simply said: "My name is Jiraiya."

"Jiraiya? What an odd name for a girl."

"I am a lady, with an odd name, indeed." She nodded while her eyes observed the stern yet warm features of his face. "And who are you?"

Kakashi drew his katana back and helped her stood up. There passed a second or so, until they realized they did not let go of each other's hands. "I apologize…" Quick he was as he took a step backwards, and glanced around beneath them, seeking signs for anyone around. "My name is Kakashi. I serve the King. I was on a mission, of which I cannot speak."

"That is why you wanted to kill me? Because you thought that I saw you? In all honesty, you overestimated me." She smiled as she could not help it. "Can you help me get out of here?"

"Yes. Follow me, Jiraiya."

It was clear moonlight, as they had stolen out into the fragrant summer night, through the gardens, down the terraces, past the great oaks of the park, and along the long white road to the village. The village seemed very old, eaten away at the edge like the moon which had commenced to wane, and Tsunade wondered whether the peaked roofs of the small houses hid sleep or death. In some corners of the streets were spears of long grass, and several windowpanes on either side were either broken or filmily staring. The trees still sheltered singing birds, and the moon and stars looked down upon dewy blossoms in the walled rose-gardens the deeper they got into the place.

To her, it was the very first time away from the palace, and so every pore of her savoured the smells, the noises, the sight of Konoha. Bewitched she was truly and deeply and inevitable it was for her to hold onto him, while swiftly they hurried, and she did not even ask where, exactly. She did not mind it; what mattered is that she saw it all, the magic behind the walls.

The vistas whose existence her common eye could never suspect; she merely dreamt how the kingdom looked, imagined large trees with heavily gnarled roots, pond within which swans swam, people with joy beaming on their faces. A large family, where there was no need of violence, or any kind of brutality.

If only she did not think that last part, however, things would have been less disappointing to her pure eyes.

"Dammit." Kakashi's sharp eyes narrowed even sharper as the loud sounds of drunken arguments filled the air. He knew it well whence it originated, and so he fastened their already rapid pace.

"Whe-where are-…" She wished to speak yet all she did was running faster, with eyes widening at the scene that unveiled in front of them.

Men with stirred pride cursed each other while surrounding two already engaged in a petty fight. The sense of it was nowhere to be found, while the owner and geisha pleaded for them to stop. Oftentimes such atrocity happened, and at every occasion, there was one sole person to put an end to it.

Tsunade stopped a few steps away from the group while her eyes watched the samurai merge with the crowd. She only wondered whether this was a daily event and if men would frequent such places as Ichiraku's courtesan house on a regular basis. She knew nothing of the world, not even about humanity.

Little it took and the people began to disband, in Kakashi's hand a poor drunk hanging, lifted from the ground. "I won't repeat myself again. We will not let you do as you please here, in this village. You may have royal blood in your veins, but that will not make you valiant. You are all cowards, Itachi-sama."

As the last person vanished, it was only Kakashi and his group.

Nervous she was as she kept biting her lip, standing there like a lonely leaf blown by the autumn breeze. Quietly she watched them and observed them carefully. "Oh, let me help with that!" Driven by a sudden impulse, she did not think any further, and rushed to the samurai with short black hair and thick stark brows and placed her hands upon the wound of his arm. "It shan't take long, hopefully…" Tsunade offered a light, polite smile to the stranger who seemed to have swooned right then and there if not being supported by another's shoulder.

"Where did you find her?" Asuma's deep coarse voice rang in the night while he feasted his eyes in the sight of her. "She knows medical jutsu."

"Medical jutsu?" Tsunade turned her head gently towards the direction of him. She never would have thought her magic was in fact but a jutsu. Her surprise enlightened the mood, for it was a cunning little scene to those profoundly aware of the tricks of life.

"You didn't know it is a jutsu, Jiraiya?" Kakashi's usually strict features were too bathed in strokes of glee.

"Her name is Jiraiya?" Asuma couldn't help but laugh.

"She said so." The other shrugged while the embarrassed girl healed Guy's wound completely.

"Can you tell me more about jutsu?"

"Where are you from, another world, lady?" Asuma teased her further as with his eyes fixedly upon her. She was a remarkable sight and as it seemed, she was also a rather whimsical character. It was hard to find people like her around here; thus, it was inevitable for her to remain unnoticed.

"Do not mock me, stranger." Tsunade crossed her arms yet her anger ignited more delight from the men around her.

Asuma approached her, his eyes besprinkled in sake as he resumed to talking, again. "Or what will you do, Jiraiya?"

Tsunade was not a person who allowed mockery from anyone. She was a royal, a young woman and most importantly, she was not a piece of meat.

Even though she was gravely confused of how things were in the real world, instinctively she punched the warrior on the cheek. It was but a single touch of her knuckles, yet the victim flew several meters before falling onto the ground.

"How the hell did I do that?!" Tsunade covered her mouth in deep astonishment and fear. She had no idea about herself anymore. What did she just do? Where did that power come from? Was it that she has been strong all this time? How on earth she knew jutsu? Why nobody told her anything?

Kakashi noticed the terror in her voice and the fear in her eyes. Guided by a hunch he walked to her and waved in front of her face. "Asuma is just fine, you didn't do much harm, don't worry. You just surprised him. And us." Finally, he had her attention.

Slowly she looked upon him, desperately seeking answers in his mesmerizing gaze. "I am so sorry…I….I know nothing, as it seems."

"You do not, indeed." He couldn't argue about that now, could he? "You tell me what were you doing on the rooftop and I will tell you about jutsu and these things, all right?"

Without hesitation she nodded as if almost pleading. "Yes. Please, Kakashi-sama." Hopeful she was as she beseeched, as it seemed she just found someone to help her.

Could it be that the accidental encounter upon the roof was a beginning of everything? And if so, then what was 'everything' exactly?


	3. The City of Sin

_**"You must protect those who have faith in you and who love the village"- Tobirama Senju**_

* * *

For several minutes, although he looked her full in the face, he said nothing. He couldn't. There was not a word he found fitting to be uttered.

"Kakashi-sama…Are you going to stare at me during the whole night or help me out as we agreed upon it?" Tsunade tilted her head in evident speculation. Impossible it was for her to cease observing him as well, yet she still possessed enough inner volition to force her mouth for loud syllabification.

In rapid fashion the samurai answered by nodding his head twice; once in the affirmative, intending thus he would most certainly stop his obvious leer, and second in the negative, thereby meaning he would keep his word. Little he understood his own behavior, for he never in his life once had been so drawn to a character as she was. Barely he knew her, barely even he cared who Jiraiya was, and that singular thought lured him to believe such spell upon his bewitched mind must be a cause of the supernatural.

"What did you say, who you were?" He began, as consciousness at length had been recruited and the man blinked himself to awareness. "I told you I will answer your every question once you told me what the devil you intended to do upon the roof."

"Well…All right." Tsunade nodded sheepishly and before she could have spoken any further, the rumbling sound of hunger gave forth in her stomach. Her pallid features bloomed crimson flowers upon her cheeks as she blushed in an instant, and uttered words no more.

"Come, I will get you something to eat." Kakashi offered while politely he beckoned the rest of the mercenary group to meet later; Asuma nodded his head in assent and dragged Guy away from the two.

"Thank you, Kakashi-sama…" She pronounced those words quietly, while her feet made haste and followed the man inside the courtesan house.

Never in her life Tsunade had encountered such sight and such place as Ichiraku's wicked chambers were. With wide eyes she followed the samurai through the narrow hall; ever narrow they were it was beyond possible to walk beside each other, and so, in order to avoid becoming lost, she held his hand obediently. She could feel her palm sweat while her body shivered with cold in response to his intimacy.

Only her father would hold her hand before and never a handsome man. The heiress gulped at this idea circling in her head while her inner confusion was gradually dissolved by the swinish din of revelry. "Do…Do you often come here?" She hesitated upon asking about such a private matter yet her curiosity was graver than her will to keep quiet.

"Almost every day. I sort of grew up here." Kakashi spoke and his words surprised her dearly while they walked amidst the lanterns within which red burning lights flickered. There was a gentle squeeze of his hand, which gave away the woman's puzzlement; he sensed his words needed correction for a better comprehension.

"My father grew up with the owner of this place. Oftentimes I helped out whilst the place was being built. After my father had passed, I came here and learnt to cook. You thought of an entirely different scenario in your head, did you not?"

"Well…Yes…" If only she could have hid her burning cheeks, or pour ice upon her whole body to cool off the flames of embarrassment.

"You are a naughty woman, Jiraiya." The samurai smirked as at length they reached the kitchen chamber at the end of the red hallway.

The scene was a completely different one, as it was by no means lusciously boastful such as the rooms of the main corridor.

It lacked greatly in furniture; the kitchen was not used with too much frequency, thus it did not justify more pieces than it already had. Upon the table placed in the middle, there were plates and a large bowl filled with ramen. The rich scent of the delicious nourishment filled their nostrils and gently spoiled their senses.

Slyly he glanced at her and caught the beam within her eyes as she stared at the food, wholly bewitched. "Do they starve you at the palace?" He asked, truly curious. They sat upon the tatami and both filled their plates with fresh, warm supper.

Ichiraku must have been around, since the dinner was still hot. Perhaps he could catch him and discuss tonight's accident, Kakashi theorized. Not long he pondered upon the subject when Tsunade already finished the first portion. Without hesitation she ladled another, the sight of her stirring his fancy. She was an alien, he was certain.

"I am sorry…It is just that at the palace they serve twice meals, but the rule is that the servants only cook for the royal family. They only eat what the royals leave behind…" She confessed with a frown slipping across her angelic features for she did not half like most of the rules bestowed upon the Court. It was tradition, however, and people respected tradition more than anything.

"So you never eat? They must eat a lot, don't they?" Kakashi raised his eyebrows and wrinkles chiseled his forehead while he pondered.

"As for m….As for the heiress, she only eats midnight snacks so the lunch and supper can be given to the servants. I suppose I forgot to eat today, like her." She replied presently, while her hazel orbs remained fixedly upon him.

"So you are a servant, Jiraiya?"

She nodded in the affirmative.

"And tell me, my lady, what on earth you have done to have such a name given to you?" His question was honest and he wished to speak it with utter serenity, yet all that came was a little laughter of delight. Before Kakashi could have noticed, he was having a good time, a miracle that barely happened to him.

"What is wrong with the name Jiraiya?" Tsunade narrowed her eyes as if her name indeed have been that. She stood up for it with pure pride, carried away by the notion of her lie.

"It does not fit you at all, that is it." He replied simply as he too took a second portion of the heavenly dish of ramen.

"Why? Because it is manly? It might sound a little raw on the tongue but beyond doubt it is a nice name."

"For a man. Not for you with an appearance like this."

"Like what?" Instinctively she misunderstood his words and aimed to venture with a harsh response once he spoke. She believed the samurai laughed at her for looking like a doll, such a compliment told so many times she took it as an insult, as nobody attributed brain and emotional depth to dolls.

"I am certain you are aware of your look, but I can repeat it. You are sinfully beautiful. The only reason why I did not kill you on the roof is that I found my mind blank of thoughts when I looked at you. My wife… She is a cunning little woman, but I confess she would most certainly be upset at me if I further described your character. The art of Devil is always more appealing than of God's, for it is besprinkled with the unknown pleasures one can only dream to explore."

If there were any ramen in her mouth, she would have most certainly choked on it. At last, a wide smile spread across her lips and her mouth opened in a devious giggle. "So you believe that I am the work of the Devil?"

"I believe so." Kakashi mirrored her sweet chuckle and the two ended up in a wholehearted laughter that reverberated within the chamber as the tones of a cherubic orchestra.

Several minutes once more passed and complete silence fell upon them. Tsunade caught herself in possession of an empty mind the longer she watched him, her fingers playing with the chopsticks. "So…" She cleared her throat and broke the delicate spell casted upon them. "So please, tell me about jutsu?"

"Oh yes… About that…Where shall I begin?" Kakashi pondered as he put down the cutlery and traveled his gaze back at her. "Essentially, everyone is connected by an invisible power that sometimes emerges and sometimes remains dormant. That bond is the notion of chakra. That is a pool of energy flowing in your body. There are seven main points that govern different properties of your body and mind. When all of them are properly open and strengthened, you are able to perform jutsu."

Tsunade nodded in the positive to affirm that so far she could follow him.

Kakashi resumed while he grabbed a bottle of fresh water and poured it in two mugs. "Also, genetically we are classified to five elemental chakra natures. Fire, Earth, Water, Wood, and Lightning."

"I have one too then?" She only began to wonder what it could be for her. Perhaps water; she loved ponds and lakes, and then she remained speculative if such had anything to do with the elements.

"Or perhaps more, it depends on the amount of energy you possess, your mental strength that allows you to connect yourself to Nature, -and as I said, your family roots." Kakashi replied on a calm, demure tone while the conversation furthered and time slowly lingered above them.

None of them could be bothered by the time or the place, since it did seem nothing existed except them. The exuberant noises of wicked pleasures ceased ringing in their ears and only each other's voice had paramount attention.

"Do you have more than one?" She asked while she rested her elbows upon the table, her hazel orbs visible past her long eyelashes.

"We, samurai are more spiritual than those who focus on power. We call them shinobi. They stand beneath the samurai-caste, because their methods are savage, and while we serve and live by strict rules about both honor and combat, they act by their own free will. They usually possess one or two natures, while among us it is a rare thing to even practice these techniques."

"Why do you have such power then? You are the Lightning Prince, aren't you? I know that much, even though I am sort of imprisoned in the palace." During a brief moment she felt proud of her knowledge, albeit upon seeing his reaction, she wished she never asked it, or at least not that way.

Kakashi's throat felt dry and so he took his time to reply. Not even the few gulps of water ceased the uneasy sensation that spread all over his body. With a single cough he cleared his throat and his features grew severe and most of all, pained. It was only with vast hesitancy and repugnance that he let his mind go back to the past where the answer lay. "You know, Jiraiya…Sometimes people do things they don't want in order to protect people they care about. Sometimes the world does not need heroes, sometimes it needs villains. Pain and anger breed the desire for vengeance and then even those most reserved may lose track of the right path."

"You were a shinobi, weren't you?" She bit her lower lip as she hesitantly carried on the conversation with bold courage of her spirit.

Beyond doubt he was impressed by her intrepidity and so he did not leave her without a reply. "Sometimes I still am. Sometimes the King I serve strives for chaos instead of peace."

"The King? This one? You mean Hashirama-sama?" Her eyes widened, as she did not quite comprehend the true meaning behind his ominous-sounding words. "He is good, Kakashi-sama. I swear to you, he is."

"I do not doubt that, Jiraiya." Kakashi replied with a faint smile upon his face and resumed. "However, people and things are not always what they seem to be."

"You are right…" She nodded in consort. He was right, and the singular thought of it creeped in her spirit like a terrifying sensation of something even more horrible than the idea itself.

"That is enough of talking!" The samurai wished to bring back the aerial atmosphere that was now heavily burdened with bizarre predictions. "Show me if you are good at fighting. Perhaps you know a thing or to, after all."

"We should bet on it." She reacted presently and with an audacious tone for a young woman.

"What if I win? Which is of course certain." Kakashi rose from the table and waited patiently for the other to follow his actions.

The way outside was the same as within, and thus he once more held his hand out to her. Before their fingers intertwined, she bowed him politely for the things he has done. Tsunade was used to common courtesy and would always wish to express her gratitude for those who were good to her. She still believed in kindness and respect.

"You will not, Kakashi-sama. Either of us wins shall ask one thing from the other. How about that?"

"You are too brave for a young woman, do you know that?"

"And so I was told." Tsunade giggled with mischief within her eyes as she let herself be guided by the other as they betook towards the egress. The hall was filled with thick, mystic vapor of ragged breathing, deep moans from the pleased ones' throat, and heavy scent of bodily essences. The heiress felt lightheaded merely from the air as she rapidly took her steps to keep up his pace.

"Finally." She inhaled deeply the fresh night air that welcomed her lungs, the man's light laughter invoking wrinkles upon her forehead. "What is so funny, now?"

"Nothing, Jiraiya."Quickly he pursed his lips before another cunning chuckle slipped past them. With his head he beckoned to one side where a more remote part of the village lay. It would be a perfect place for training.

And so it was, the riverside. By night, its channel grew more narrow, its banks more and more precipitous; and these latter were blanketed in rich, more profuse, and more sombre foliage. The water also increased in transparency. The stream took a thousand turns, so that at no moment could its gleaming surface be easily perceived by mere human eyes.

"Wow…" Tsunade canvassed the dark meadow and its raging waters as she looked around minutely. Even at the darkest hour of the day, the scenery was beyond describable. A world of lurking danger and beauty, amplified by her excited imagination burst upon her view.

Kakashi smiled at her reaction as he stood beside her. "All right, we should begin before the sun comes up."

"Oh…" Realizaton then hit her all of a sudden. "I apologize, you…You should be home, shouldn't you? With your wife."

"I believe if I went home now, that would be only source of piquant debates, into which I do not wish to engage myself at this point." There was a slight declension in his voice as he uttered those words as if wishing to 'unknow' things.

Tsunade did not ask any more about the subject and instead she straightened her back and took up a fighter's position. "Come at me, Lightning Prince!" Her eyes narrowed as her will sharpened, the flames of determination glowing in her orbs, enlightening her faultless features.

The samurai appreciated her unspoken words and shook his head at last. "First, show me how you can hit. You took Asuma by surprise but that was beginner's luck." He resumed as he raised his palms up in front of him, shoulder-high. "Use your fists and hit my palms."

The decided heiress nodded in assent and clenched her hands in tight grips. To her fortune, her aim was perfect and so she effortlessly hit his palm.

"Again. Don't play around. I said show me you can hit. This was a breeze."

"You and your big talk!" She growled, infuriated by his cocky demeanor, albeit it was exactly what she needed to be driven past the limitations of her spirit. In that instant, she felt as if she was someone different, someone more powerful, more lively, more energetic, as if she as out of her own weary vessel.

"You hit like a girl, Jiraiya." Kakashi teased her further until her movements were governed by sheer intuition. That is what he wished to reach, and he did it, without her noticing so. The samurai grabbed one of her fists as he lunged at her without any warning. She was taken by surprise and she gasped, her eyes open in shock. What was even more surprising, however, was the very fact that she successfully blocked his punch with her forearm.

Kakashi offered a smirk, for he has long anticipated her rapid reaction. "Now, that is better." He spoke as he took a step back. "Can you kick?"

"Yes, of course." She gulped for she has never quite kicked in her life, perhaps when a spoiled nuisance to her parents, fighting off undesired garments before official ceremonies. "I mean…"

Her hesitation said it all. The reserved man nodded in comprehension and then casually he spoke. "Lift your leg up as high as possible. Slowly, so you won't harm yourself by pulling any muscles. Just lift it up as if you wished to kick me in the face."

"You want it that high?" Certain it was she knew nothing of fighting techniques, or of how they were properly executed. What an embarrassing truth, she sighed to herself but she did not show it, and instead she did as she was instructed.

"Higher." He ordered on a strict tone as he observed her in close distance.

"That is all I can do, I think." She began to question her own stability as she answered, disappointed.

"Let me help you." Kakashi stepped closer and carefully his long fingers twirled around her ankle in the air. "See, you can kick me in the chest if you are angry enough." He noted as he let her regain her own balance by placing her sole above his chest.

There was a strange sensation in that moment, the way his warm hand slowly heated her own skin as he helped her stood in such odd position. Slowly, she bent her knee and with great reluctance, she stood back up in proper posture. "Ah…So…"

"You should practice during the day. You seem to be blessed with skills of a fighter. You just need to improve."

"I will…" Tsunade nodded and for a second she stopped to observe the inner rhythm of her heart. Was she going to faint again? Or what else could explain the frantic speed of her weak organ?

"Are you all right, Jiraiya?" Faint strokes of concern rang in his voice as he asked, his body less hesitant than his mind about stepping closer or not.

She quickly took a step backwards while she replied. "Yes! I just…I should go back to the palace before people begin to wake up. The servants are up early."

"Then you should go, indeed." Kakashi nodded comprehendingly.

"Would you like to….I would be thankful if you…" Why words seemed to be suddenly so remote from her brain? She could not find anything nice to say, or a way to form her erratic thoughts.

"You can find me in the village, probably the same place where we ate, after sunset. If you wish to practice more."

"Yes. Yes I do. Thank you." Tsunade bowed deeply and with a quick wave, she made haste back to the palace. Time has long prolonged, it was almost dawn.

 _ **The following morning...**_

"To me, my people are a thousand kingdoms more important than the virtues of state policy!" Hashirama's voice rang deep and loud, the coarse sound of his strict syllabification bringing the bravest of warriors on their knees. He rose from the Dragon Throne as he shouted, leaving no soul saved from his final decision.

"As your Majesty pleases." Lord Danzo stepped back to his place, enraged by the continuous battle with the King. While Hashirama put the benevolence of his people in front of him, the Minister of Interior Affairs saw only one person significant enough and that was himself.

Before Lord Shikaku could have said anything, the official discussion was interrupted; this time, it was not the cheerful presence of the heiress, since there was nothing cheerful within the horrid, soul-upheaving, heart-blasting sight that followed the Royal Physician and Supreme Military Commander. Hashirama's eyes enlarged and trembled in shock while the blood left his veins in terror; he resembled to a ghastly old man with a thread away from vanishing into the eternal. "No…No." His lungs emptied and as if a sharp blade impaled his heart, he staggered down the stairs, while Lady Shizune and Lord Minato stopped in front of him, kneeling upon the ground as courtesy.

"The discussion is over, we must leave!" Lord Shikaku was quick to react, as he noticed the meaning of the King's defeat. The governors were quick to dissipate; only General Madara remained with his faithful advisor.

The raven crowned noble remained seated with his arms folded upon his crossed legs, with a victorious smirk curled upwards upon his features. He seemed to be upon excellent terms with himself and the universe while the scene was far from leisure.

"Your Majesty…" Lord Minato began as he stood up and offered a large silver blade within its red, exquisitely carved sheath. "There was nothing to be done."

Hashirama, without thinking, for sense he lost it all, grabbed the offered blade and held it against the Commander's throat. "Tobirama said this was a simple mission! My brother said this was nothing! How dare you bring back his sword without him?! Where is he?! I command you, tell me where he is and end this cruel joke!"

Minato restrained himself from showing any emotion apart from honest sympathy. "He rests in his room until you allow Lady Shizune to begin the…-"

He did not hear more of it. He did not care. He had to see him. He had to see his brother. There was simply no way he could believe what happened. No. It had to be a wicked game of the Court. He would forgive, if only it was but a fiendsih trickery.

Madara and Orochimaru watched the miserable King vanish from the Hall, both fighting dearly in order to blanket their grins. Leisurely, the General stretched as if awakening from a deep slumber and walked outside as well, taking a good look at his future kingdom. "We need that grey-crowned samurai."

"I am afraid, Lord Madara we cannot use him for much longer." The serpent servant spoke in an undertone as he stood beside him. "He is becoming suspicious about the origin of the orders given to him."

"Well then, we do what we always do." The leader of the Uchiha clan travelled his gaze at his advisor as he at last added. "We find a weakness and eliminate the threat." He smiled warmly upon uttering those syllables.

 _ **Meanwhile...**_

Hashirama ran like a madman through the royal garden while each and every step of him seemed to weigh a hundred tons. Even the short distance in which Tobirama's chambers resided appeared to became unreachable, as he rushed towards it. He threw the doors open and fell upon his knees, his ragged breath combined with the breaking cries that rose from his lungs. The pain felt unbearable, a part of him was gone. His body grew numb as he stared at the elegantly dressed corpse of his other half. "Brother…" It was all he could whisper as slowly, he staggered onwards and stumbled, and fell once more.

"Tobirama…You said…" He was appalled by the fearful alteration which the brief interval of time spent apart had wrought in him. His face glowed in leaden-hue; the once vivid crimson red eyes were utterly lustreless and the emaciation was so extreme that the skin had been broken through by the cheekbones. The pulse had long left his body; no sign of life was perceptible.

Hashirama knelt down and lifted the body into his arms. Before he had left, he could not hug him. He was too busy scolding Tsunade that he did not pay the least attention to his brother. If he only knew that was the very last time of seeing him alive, he would have hugged him, kissed him in brotherly affection and would have ruffled his silver crown. Perhaps, he might even have been able to utter some kind of joke and then tell him he loved him. He did none of those. He only scolded his daughter.

Eaten up by remorse and deep roots of tormenting pain, Hashirama sobbed quietly through words mumbled as he cradled his brother as if wishing to calm himself too by the genteel action. "What am I going to do now? The wrong one of us died, Tobirama. I make too many mistakes. I am too tender-hearted. What am I going to do? How will I tell her the truth?"

"Hashirama."Madara stood in the background between the two bamboo gates of entrance.

"Not now, Madara…Please…" He pleaded quietly as he shuddered, his words barely audible to human ears.

The raven lord did not bother with such nuisance as the King's weak soul was and slowly, with footfalls easily distinguishable, he approached him. "Hashirama, it is the time for me to talk to you." He slowly sat beside him, and placed his hand upon his shoulder. "I do not believe Tobirama died because he was not skilled enough. It must have been someone close to him, perhaps someone he trusted."

"Are you saying he was betrayed?" The King's deep dark eyes slowly travelled up to his trusted friend's, and he looked into them wearily.

Madara nodded positively. "It only makes sense. The imprisoned magistrate died last night. They say it was suicide but I am certain we are facing the wicked tricks of a conspirator. You cannot trust anyone, Hashirama. I advise you listen carefully to me. Anyone here can be your worst enemy. Look what they have done to your brother! There are too many people disagreeing with your beliefs since the War. It is only natural this came to happen."

"He was not supposed to die. He was not, Madara... This doesn't make sense...Only if..."

"If I am right." Madara finished his sentence. "It can be anyone from here. Perhaps a governor or a servant..."

"I will find that person and they will pay." He said, entitled to the fierce sensation of vengeance. Or was it the first seeds of insanity planted in his brain? Madara played an excellent game; there was no doubt about it.

"You should pay attention to those you cherish. After all, it is your brother they have taken from you."

"Tsunade..." The King's eyes widened in painful realization of truth. "I have to talk to her...You have to marry the soonest possible, so she will be safe!"

"Yes, that is what I believe to be the wisest decision."

"In a fortnight, then. It shall happen in a fortnight." The King was determined as he at last muttered these words rich in agitation. Carefully, he released the corpse and laid him back upon the futon. He had to talk to her. He had to protect her. That is what Tobirama would have expected him to do, and he most certainly needed to do a minuter job. If he failed his brother, again...No, he would not allow it to happen!

Hashirama hastened from the chamber and hurried to the heiress' residence that lay in a remote place of the palace, hidden from all that was noise and bother. He took a deep breath and patted his cheeks a few times before he considered himself presentable in front of her. His hands slowly reached upon the bamboo doors and was almost ready to pull them apart when Jiraiya showed up at his sight.

"Your Majesty, Tsunade is still asleep." The young one bowed in polite manner and looked upon the king.

"Is she? What was she doing at night?"

"Well, uhm...She was... Well she was reading all night!"

Hesitation seized his spirit; perhaps it was not the time for him to tell her the morbid perversion of God. He grew discouraged by the image of her smile, and how easily he would diminish the last stroke of her joyous face if he said anything.

"I see...Jiraiya, listen... Please do not let her to the Court today. Do not let her listen to anything they say... I need to speak with her tonight. She must know it all, from me. Can you do that, please?"

"Yes, Your Majesty." He bowed once more, quietly wondering what must have happened that weakened and mangled the cheerful charisma of the King. He dared not ask, however. He was a servant; he had no right to be so bold.

"Thank you." That was all he said, that was all he could speak before he once more broke down.

Hashirama managed to get back to his residence where the soul-annihilating reality clawed through his skin and despair feasted from the deepest pits of his heart.

He was lost, and he was unable to be. The mere idea of existing without Tobirama, to face the idea of a secret traitor seemed fearfully unreal he could not, -at the moment- believe that he would be able to lead the kingdom out of the upcoming darkness, if it came. Too many secrets were hidden and now he was left alone with them all.

Time wolre along and at last evening has slowly descended upon Konoha. It was a night of unusual gloom. The great clock risen in the center of the village had sounded the eighth hour of the thickening dusk. Streets grew somehow more silent and instead of youthful cheer it was the husky voice of men and thrilled giggle of women filling the chilly atmosphere. The last lights of the sun have long died away when Hashirama returned to Tsunade's chamber. Quietly he knocked once and pulled the doors apart.

Jiraiya rapidly pulled the blanket over his head; tonight as well, he wore her dress, for during the day he warned the heiress about her father's upcoming visit. She still insisted on leaving, the bright beams within her eyes betraying how happy she felt last night. He regretted not going with her, especially the second he realized the source of her joy was the time she spent with that samurai.

The young servant wanted to see what made her smile every time she pronounced his name, albeit he knew well that man itself was a piece of art, even if one only considered his skills in battle. He was also appealing for the eyes and such fact Jiraiya did not half fancy.

Still, her demands were clear; she wished to be in the village again, and so he did everything she asked of him. He could not do otherwise, it was simply impossible to say no to her. If only she realized his feelings, things might have been different. But that was not the case, and it was not the time to ponder upon that.

At this very moment, he had to do his utmost to not reveal himself to the King and keep their secret hidden. He could hear the King's distinctive footsteps and as they ceased, and at last he sat upon the tatami ground, beside the futon. He gulped, letting a single part of the nightgown of Tsunade be visible to her father; that way it was more probable he would believe it was her underneath the sheets.

"Tsunade..." Hashirama began, ever so quietly he muttered for courage still has not wholly returned to him. "There are some things I must tell you... I should have, a long time ago."

Jiraiya remained quiet, while the King softly confessed. The terror within his eyes spread and plagued his spirit. The young servant covered his mouth as he kept listening, wishing the words were never heard. Wishing Tsunade never had to hear them.

 _ **Meanwhile at night...**_

"I am looking for Kakashi-sama." Tsunade bowed lightly while her eyes eagerly canvassed the surrounding vista.

"Just a minute, dear." A geisha with bewitching body and mesmerizing eyes spoke, her lips just as luscious themselves.

Hereupon she waited and counted the seconds, and the minutes. He was late, oh how late he was! Several sighs followed her quiet cursing, by the time his familiar voice came upon her ears.

"I am sorry, I had to return a cat to his owner."

"Well...All right." She tilted her head to one side, not at all impressed by his weary excuse. "In any event...Do you have time to...?"

"Yes." Kakashi nodded and offered a tender smile. "I also stopped on the road to bring you hot buns. I figured you would be hungry again." As he spoke, his hands handed a small bag of warm dish to her.

She felt embarrassed to admit but he was right. She was starving. For a brief moment, she pretended she did not need it, her fingers slowly wrapping around the free nourishments. Then, at last, she gave upon the wait and rapidly took the bag from him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He nodded and slowly betook towards the meadow. "Did you train, Jiraiya?"

"Yes, I did! I managed to stay up for a little while and I did what you asked. In addition, I found scrolls that contain impressive information about the things you have spoken. I will beat you in no time, Kakashi-sama."

Her smile was sweet like ripen peach and the way she uttered those words was even smoother for the soul. She was a character who easily lit fire within the furnace of desire and just as effortlessly diminished the painful sparks of despair within one's agonizing spirit.

Leisurely they walked, and their laughter filled the chilly air of the evening sky. He was, moreover, enwrapped in an exquisite sense of the strange, by her singularity and the atmosphere her presence has brought with itself. The thought of Nature remained, but its character seemed to have undergone modification, there was a weird symmetry, a thrilling uniformity, a wizard propriety in every corner of the village. The meadow of violets, tulips, hyacinths and tuberoses rested peacefully within the darkness that engulfed it, like a vision of a peaceful dream. That is how they felt, utterly relaxed. Before such work appointed to them, they sat amidst the bosky shrubberies, under the faint golden flocks of moonlight.

"They smell great...Do you want one?" She unclosed the bag and took one hot bun out.

"No, thank you." He refused kindly while he watched her observantly.

When she opened her mouth, there was a gush of entrancing melody, and when she sat closer, there came an oppressive sense of exotic sweet odour. What was her secret that mesmerized the mind? How effortlessly she did it, it truly puzzled him.

"I wish we could have some tea with it." Tsunade smiled and Kakashi rapidly glanced away.

"You like tea don't you?" The samurai offered a faint smile, not even visible to her to notice.

"I make the best tea at the Court, you know? I would make some for you, if it was possible. If only Konoha had tea plantation..."

"There is one, rather close."

"What?!" Suddenly she jumped from the ground and her eyes glanced from side to side as if they would find their target. "Where? Come on, I will show you the secret." Eager she was as she asked, her excitement charming even to the coldest heart.

"The secret?" Kakashi's eyes sharpened in curiosity and he too at last rose from the fluffy ground of grass.

"Show me the way!" She pleaded like a child longing for a toy and the two rushed past the meadow, up the riverside, down the way to the plantation. There was no particular smell to welcome them, yet there was the same, peculiar sensation in the air.

The heiress ran amidst the plants that reached up to waist height and danced gracefully within the gentle breeze, caressing the thin garments of her vestiture.

"Wait Jiraiya!" Kakashi rushed after her in growing worry. "I think I heard someone!" He wished to shout but such actions would have riveted even more attention upon them. He caught up when she stopped and pulled her down amidst the tender bed of fresh flowers.

Tsunade bit upon her lip as his body clashed with hers, her back against the green field. "What are you doing, Kakashi-sama?"

"I don't want you to be caught, I heard someone..." He whispered cautiously, albeit his thoughts were far from being careful. Their hearts beat to an unnatural rhythm as they stared into each other's eyes, their breaths mingled while their lips were closer than the laws of morality allowed.

He wanted to give into the fire the same way she coveted the sensation of being touched. She stared into his deep stark orbs and he met the flames hers carried. It did not feel wrong, or perhaps it was the sinful reality of the moment that ignited such desires within them, they could not tell, and they did not really think about it.

It was then, when terror seized his soul. Kakashi gasped and sprang back, falling upon his backside, shock-stricken to the core.

"You have the same eyes..." He began as strange mixture of dreadful emotions rapidly spread on his face.

Tsunade's confusion was profound as slowly she sat up, facing him questioningly. She grew worried, since pale he profoundly became; she would have sworn she was looking at a ghost. "What do you mean?"

"You are not...You are one of them." Perplexed he was as he somewhat managed to stand upon his feet and his actions were followed by hers. "Don't come any closer."

What was going on? Anxiety made her tremble while she pleaded for a sign to explain what was happening. "I am what?"

"You are a Senju. He has the same eyes, how could I miss it? The way you are looking at me..."

She did not know what to say. He knew her secret. And yet, it was not her main concern. There was more behind his words, the way he barely made any sense. "You met my father, Ha-..."

"I killed him, two days ago. I-...I killed Tobirama Senju." As he uttered those words, the demon of his wrecked mind has returned and appeared behind the paralyzed woman.

Kakashi had seen dozens of monstrous mirages during the preceding months, some of them quite as uncanny and fantastically vivid as the present sample; yet this one had a wholly novel and obscure quality of menacing symbolism. "Get away… Get out." With trembling lips of perplexity, he growled at the terrifying vision as if mere words could dissipate its existence.

Behind her, it stood and it glared this heinous hound of death. The samurai shuddered at the seething beast of his wretched mind; the longer he stared the more self-annihilating thoughts engulfed his spirit. He was a pitiable sight, really, albeit the one in front of him was even more.

Albeit she ventured to speak, she knew not what to say or to reply, the murderer in front of her, was completely paralyzed by something she could not hear or see. The atmosphere merely served to aggravate her reaction to the bizarre, the longer she faced him. Kakashi seemed to be in some kind of trance by then, with eyes wide open, jaw hanging as if words wished to escape through the parted lips. Yet there was no sound, not one utter of syllables.

"Kakashi…" Tsunade whispered as she stepped to him. The hideous pest of the wrecked imagination of the samurai must have still been behind her, for there came no reaction from the man.

She wanted to help, no matter how her mind screamed to leave him there in his mental torment. Her brain screamed 'no,' and if only she listened to it, but she did not. She would not leave anyone in their agony, for giving aid was her unwritten rule of living. Her hands trembled as she slapped the frozen disabled on the face and broke the spell of the trans-cosmic horror upon him. She did not wait for him to say or do anything; in fact, she dreaded what would have possibly happened if he managed to call after her.

The morbidity-choked minutes had passed, when finally she jumped off the roof and broke into her room. She hoped, no, she coveted the idea of being soothed by the familiar scent of lit incenses, the well-known sight of her belongings and people surrounding her since her birth, but she was by no means calm. The heiress fumed, and cried, and sobbed as she fell upon the ground of her chamber. No consolation came; it was only pain torturing her as if her skin was cut open. Her heart cried invisible tears while her eyes grow unable to see.

"Tsunade…Hey…Tsunade."

Through her loud wails and whimpers burst through feeble sounds of worry at such degree that the sound of her own name came upon her ears. Her vehemently agitated spirit was comforted by the tight, warm hug of her friend, and the frantic uneasiness at last began to dissolve. Jiraiya held her tight as if she was to be taken from him while he was ready to fight for her, if needed. It was not the case, yet he could not be less protective. His fingers ran through the silken fall of her hair, and stroked gently the back of her head while he sat there, patiently. Soon, she would pass out, then he would make sure to not allow anyone stir her from rest.

He did not know what might have possibly happened in the village, but he anticipated that it must be the same horror that circled around the palace. He did not have the chance to be by her side when faced with the wicked disillusionment about her family, oh how he hated the mere idea of it! If only, he had been there, she would have suffered less, she could have count on him. They were all guilt tainted thoughts, now; there was nothing to be done about it.

After she finally swooned into his arms, Jiraiya placed her upon the soft sheets of the futon. Carefully, he put her folded uniform beside her and changed back to his own modest habiliments. He was only foresightful, bringing a pair of his pants and shirts, so this way he was not forced to take them off her. His heart longed to stay by her side yet he knew it was not possible; soon they would be looking for him to do his daily duties, and also, people would have the wrong idea of him spending the night here, with her. Nonetheless being it his utmost desire,he had no choice but to be patient.


	4. Evening Star

_**"Demons do not cry. You became a demon, because you couldn't cry anymore could you not? Humans cry and when their tears finally run dry, there's nothing left, but a demon or a monster and one final prayer for death. So, laugh demon. Laugh that arrogant laugh of yours and remember I beat you to it."- Alexander Anderson**_

* * *

Albeit the Court surrounded her, and people of histrionical nobility stood strictly by her sides, at first perception she seemed as if to stood alone. Carefully he watched her from not so far of a distance, as if wishing to stand by her side, to console her, to perhaps even explain the unbelievable circumstances, which had set in motion the horrible actions of a probable, impending treachery.

Her small, bare, and silvery feet forced within undesired leather sandals gleamed in the black mirror of marble beneath her. Her hair, not as yet more than half loosened for the night from its slumberous arrayal, leisurely clustered, amidst a shower of diamonds, round and round her classical head, in curls like those of the young hyacinth. A snowy-white and gauze-like drapery was the covering to her face, and her body seemed to be divested from all that heavy folds of royal garments. Her delicate form was tenderly wrapped in single layer of silk; but the mid-summer and morning air was hot, sullen, and still, and no motion in the statue-like form itself stirred even the folds of that raiment of very vapor which hung around it.

However, strange thing as it may be, her large, lustrous hazel eyes were not turned downwards upon that coffin wherein her father lay buried, but riveted in a widely different direction! Those pair of eyes, those pair of crystals, brighter than the sun itself gazed into his own stark visage and rapidly shattered the remains of thoughts from his mind. There was nothing he could do, for the samurai was consumed in remorse upon realizing the fatal mistake he has committed. There was nothing he could do, for the single glance from the young woman of blue blood awakened thoughts and images his mind should have most certainly not bred.

With an agonizing sensation plastering across his heart, rapid he was as he looked away to further inspect his surroundings. A few steps away from her stood, in full, noble habiliments the satyr-like figure of the General himself. He was occasionally occupied in observing the throng, and seemed _blasé_ to the very death, as at certain intervals he consulted his watch in hope for the upcoming end of the ceremony.

The king, not any less motionless than expressionless, stared at the sarcophagus made of the finest artisanship. His eyes wherein once the bright lights of life nested were now leaden-hued, tinted in lifeless shades of dull grey and were filled with visible tears. He kept looking fixedly upon the box that separated him from his brother for eternity, his lusterless character trembling at the quiet mutterings of the priest.

The samurai shrank involuntarily from his glassy stare, since the peculiar meaning behind the royal's pain was of a cruel truth.

The majestic clangor of the town-clock disturbed him from serene contemplation and at last, he patiently observed as the tumult slowly began to subside. With the people slowly parting, the lights slowly began to die away within the palace, lanterns' flames killed as the sun gained more territory over the vaults of heavens. Yet, it seemed as if a stark and suffocating darkness has descended upon those who remained, this invisible shadow taking advantage especially upon the king's frail spirit.

If one could have only warned those around him, about the impending doom he was fated to bear, perhaps it might had been better to let him perish right now and join his brother in peace.

Hashirama could not give orders in that moment, thus it was the General's task to inform the warriors of the palace about the noble commands. Kakashi well knew he was required as well to participate in the assembling, for he belonged with the samurai who once have sworn to serve the King until life bid them farewell.

There was nothing more what the young heart coveted so painfully, than to follow the subject of his flaming spirit until the doors of her chamber, even if it was simply with the eyes, and so if only he could bring himself to speak, for words were indeed paramount to clear up the clouds of the soul-tormenting misery. Shaking off from his mind the speculations of lovely matters, his feet thought further not, and carried him into the Hall of Discussion. Twenty or so of the warriors knelt down and bowed politely in unison upon General Madara's presence.

The Lord stood in front of the Dragon Throne with arms wide open as he bathed his deep dark spirit within the loud hail of the room. Notwithstanding his profoundly rooted cruelty, there were perhaps only one or two warriors able to match his skills in swordsmanship. Thus many regarded him in the shadow of savage artistic jealousy, wishing to kill him by their own hands, such dream never to become true, of course.

He dwelt in the unbroken harmony of the exaltations, and at last, and with great reluctance, his hands beckoned to the men to cease their voices so he shall speak. "At such a misfortunate event we had to gather, my dear samurai." He began, for he already felt as if the army belonged to him completely. "Your King wants you to leave your previous tasks behind and remain among the walls of the palace until the mystery is resolved."

Sly he was, oh ever so sly indeed. For instructions were clear when given, the Lord as he spoke, made certain modifications about the matter, omitting information rather significant, in order to cover his tracks, and of course those of the guilty samurai. "There is nothing to discuss any further, all you have to do is stay here and guard the palace. Oh, by the way, those five of you, in the back, you must return to the village and do the same there." As he uttered those words at last, once more, he mused in the sight in front of him; soon he would indeed give orders as not the messenger but as **_the king_**.

 _ **Meanwhile...**_

Time wore along and the morning closed in upon the King and then the darkness came as he hurried past the main corridor, wishing to seclude himself from all that lived and spoke, as he could bear not to look into those questioning eyes, or to even go at such length as to form words and further them into meaningful sounds.

The morning tarried, and the mists of an evil night were now falling behind with lazy steps upon the vast sky of heavens. After throwing the bedroom's doors open, he simply sat motionless in that solitary chamber for hours unknown and still he sat buried in meditation, when the _phantasm_ of an unknown conspirator maintained its terrible ascendancy within his mind. It gained such power as, with the most vivid hideous distinctness, he could swear he saw a head, which was to be drawn out from a circle of thick black mist, and it floated about amidst the changing lights and shadows of the chamber. At length there broke in upon his conscious dreams a cry as of horror and dismay; and thereunto, after a pause, succeeded the sound of troubled voices, intermingled with many low moanings of sorrow and of pain. He arose from his seat when someone threw open one of the doors of the chamber.

"Hashirama." Madara spoke as he stepped in, the pitiful sight of the King true joy to his heart. He did not ask upon the matter of his cries, for he was not quite interested in the reason of the terror upon his ghastly visage.

"Come," Hashirama said, abruptly as he wished to annihilate the dreadful vision he has just seen. "Let us drink! It is early… but let us drink. It is indeed early…" Therefore, the King continued musingly, and as an angel with a heavy golden hammer made the residence ring with the first few hours after sunrise.

The numbing effect of sake was calling his mind to shallow trickery as he felt its power necessitated in that very moment. "It is indeed early, but what matters it? Let us drink!" He resumed in speaking, while Madara insisted not, nor he wished to talk some sense into his friend who was rapidly becoming consumed by remorse and by the horror of mortality. His hands reached for the finely made bottle and poured out the essence of all dazing visions. Before Madara could have accepted the filled bumper handed to him, the King has already swallowed in rapid succession several goblets of the sake. "Now tell me, was everything all right?"

"Yes, Hashirama." The raven-crowned conspirator spoke in demure calmness sounding within his tone. "Albeit, there was one thing… That samurai you hold so dear to your heart, he and his group wished to remain within the village and keep it safe."

"Kakashi, you say?" Hashirama speculated long upon the subject,as the more drops of alcohol lingered down his throat, the harder it became to remain upon the path of consciousness. "How nice of him to say that! Let it be, then, let him and the other four stay there. We possess enough guards, anyway."

Lord Madara bowed in acknowledgement while ran over in thought the perfect keeping of his character. Leisurely he uplifted his eyes as he seated himself upon the comfortable sofa he would definitely keep, once he inherited this chamber. At full length he lay and held the glass of the finest liquid witchcraft in his hand. "Yes, I thought so as well." He began, whilst his eyes canvassed minutely the place. Little time he spent here, since most of their conversations took place within the Hall of Discussion or in the Library.

Albeit the King believed they were friends, he still restrained the warm discussions in other places. The very meaning of the General being there, undisturbed, was but one of the first signs of Hashirama's weakening mind. How peculiar the road to paranoia was, Madara mused quietly before he added. "I personally believe the traitor is in the Court, and closer to you than you might assume."

"You do think that?" Hashirama took a seat at last, when the first strokes of alcohol began to massage his brain to numbness.

Madara nodded in the positive. "You should have most of the samurai around the heiress, to make sure she will not be harmed."

"You words are wise as always, my friend." Such an insightful person he was, the King smiled to himself as he spoke. "Perhaps there should be more to be done…" Thoughts were brought to life with difficulty the more time elapsed above his head. Hashirama's tongue licked carefully the last drop of sake from the bottle and with a satisfied sigh, he fell back upon the chair. "Perhaps I should go see my troops and seek answers from them. They must know something… At least if it is a woman or a man we hunt."

"What would please your enemies more than to see you abandon your quarters? You must remain still and reserved, as long as you can, and behave as if danger never approached the Court. That way, the conspirator will not know if you are planning anything or not."

"Indeed." He nodded to the General's advice. "Yes, yes. I must pretend!" His large eyes gleamed rather than shined, for the effect of the divine ambrosia on his frantic brain was not more powerful than it was instantaneous. He placed the empty bottle nervously upon the table in human reach, and looked upon his company with a half-insane stare. He then raved for upwards of fifteen minutes during which the General remained still as a grave.

Madara hid his highly amused state and instead he cleared his throat for further revelations about his beliefs. "You should always think about this, my friend. The danger that lurks in every corner, the unknown and the unseen, this pariah with the utmost strategy to ruin your kingdom."

The King grew purple with rage and gave sign to his fury as he smashed the oaken surface of the table with his fist. "I will not hear more of it! Whoever this person may be, it won't stand a chance against us! As long as we have you, my true friend, I know it will be all right. I know my dear brother would have said the same. Tsunade's safety is paramount, and I can easily take care of myself."

"You could not have said it better." The tyrant smiled as he regarded him for some moments in evident wonder at his naivety. Before he could have uttered any more syllables, there was a knock upon the door.

"Would Your Majesty have lunch?" The servant called through the door while awaiting for an answer. As established in royal traditions, it was a customary rule to ask for permission first, despite the severity of the matter.

"Yes. Bring it in." Hashirama replied as he struggled a great deal to remain in his proper posture. He did not wish to be ridiculed, for the drunken state he was in by those amongst whom a traitor hid.

Upon the tray was all that could be considered the glorious art of cuisine. Red bean porridge was carefully placed within the center, surrounded by smaller plates of enticing meals. There was no more pleasant view for the hungry eyes than this magical tray of divine nourishment. Hashirama's dark eyes fell upon the portions, and happily he pondered where to start. He decided beside the porridge and took the silver spoon in his hand. Madara observed his every move, as the King with paradox nonchalance fidgeted with the cutlery for a few moments.

The servants knelt upon the ground to bow deeply in front of him. They would remain motionless and patiently wait until the King finished eating, which usually did not take so the first elevation of the spoon he had seemed satisfied with a momentary inspection of the dish, and was withdrawing the instrument when, as if he was struck by a second thought, he resumed and descended it into the plate.

"Is everything all right, Hashirama?" The General asked as the King's hesitation attracted his general observation. Perhaps he was also a little curious about the indefinite action of the other as he continued to watch him unremittingly.

"Look at this." The Senju lord spoke with growing agitation of his spirit. He grew immeasurably alarmed and threw himself passionately back in the chair while the spoon trembled in his hand, its edge darkened by an unknown reason. "Look at this! I command you to look at it!" And he did command the taster to look upon the object of his fury. "Who made this food?" His voice rang like the bells of Hell, shaking the innocents to the very core.

"It must be poison!" Madara rose from the sofa and furthered the growing paranoia within his friend's brain. He insisted tirelessly upon the singular accusation, only to cloud Hashirama's judgment, which he completed successfully.

The Royal Physician was summoned, who took the darkened spoon with him for further inspection. The servants spoke in hushed and uneasy voices as hurriedly they raced to flee from the room, within which the King and General remained.

Invisible voices of insanity rang exultantly in his mind as he sought desperately for peace within. The strong drink from before still had its power over him, of which Madara knew well.

"You should lie down, Hashirama. I believe you are under too much pressure. Perhaps if I could be any help of you…"

"If only you could just take my damn place." The King obviously joked, yet hit the right spot in Madara's wicked soul. "But you are not a Senju. What a pity, really." He sighed as fatigue overwhelmed him at last. Before he could have uttered any more words, quietly he passed out in the chair.

 _ **After several hours...**_

"Should I… Perhaps…Maybe not…But…" Jiraiya sighed as the day rapidly advanced and sunset approached the world. Having been standing in front of the Library's door for twenty minutes now, he struggled with making decision. Should he seek out her company and talk about what have happened since last night when she returned?It might have not been the best idea after all, to tell her everything the King had previously confessed to him, thinking it was Tsunade under the sheets. Albeit it seemed she knew, she may have known more than he did. It was truly hard to tell.

Also today, during the funeral, he spotted that damn samurai. He did not half fancy the way he looked at her beloved, yet she did not give any sign of discomfort upon that matter. The young man drew a deep, heavy sigh from his throat and at last forced himself through the entrance.

Tsunade busied her mind in scrolls and tireless she was in absorbing all the information offered by the old parchments. Ever since the end of the ceremony, she has resided there, as if to seek out something imperative to her. What was it? She did not share it with him, something that never once happened before. Would she pledge her soul to the utmost kind of secrecy and distance herself from not only her only living relative but from him too?

"Hey, Tsunade…" He called her name as he approached the heiress with each step taken in minute caution.

"Hm?" That was all she said as eager she was to grab another scroll and tear it open. She sat back upon the ground, and resumed to reading.

"I was wondering if everything was all right…" He was well aware of the absurdity of his question, yet words were hard to find in that moment. There was nothing else he wished more than to hold her and console her for as long as she needed, while evidently she not once considered that offer.

"I am fine." At last she ventured to reply. Her stare was cold and pained, while words rolled on her tongue in fiery fashion. She was upset, oh how gravely she was. "What do you want? I am busy."

"I came here to talk. I guessed you needed someone you can trust." He shrugged as he stopped in front of her. Before he could have sat down, she rose from the ground, her fingers crumpling the royal documents without noticing so.

"If you weren't the priest's son, I would seriously question your reliability." Honest she was as she spoke.

"I am only adopted." Jiraiya shrugged, wishing to cheer her somehow, yet it seemed humor was not on his side at the moment. "You should talk to the King, and ask him yourself."

"Kakashi-sama told me the same... About Tobirama…" The heiress sighed before she resumed. "I found the official diary of the Court. And I stole my father's before the funeral. Everything is true. I just can't begin to understand, why couldn't they tell me."

"People don't really tell their kids they are from a one night stand,…I mean, you know, they want to call you on sweet names, so you will feel they actually wanted to have you."

She slipped her free hand into her pocket and opened the small collection of sentimentalism. "I do not know how to feel. My...Well, my father's diary says he loved my mother but he knew Hashirama loved her too, so he never wanted to do anything on purpose to hurt him. I was by no means wanted. My mother wanted to get rid of me. There is a passage here, check this." She sighed deeply as she lifted the open book, her spirit burdened with profound disappointment.

 _I could not believe my ears yet she repeated her desperate cry over and over until they burnt within my soul. I brought myself to ask her, in spite of the suffocating feeling that consumed me. I asked her, 'Why would you do something so horrific? Do you despise me that much?' As my heart predicted, her reply was no comfort to my agitated soul. 'It is not you I despise. It is me and my sin.'_

"I would always want you." Jiraiya complimented after reading the small piece of the past, but his words were met deaf ears.

Tsunade ignored him, albeit unintentedly, as she kept crumpling the old scroll. "You said that Hashirama told you when he thought you were me last night, that my mother died after I was born."

"Yes, that is what he said to me." Jiraiya nodded in the declarative.

"There is more." She stepped closer to him, her scent spoiling his lungs in the instant as he quickly inhaled it. If only she would be just a little more close, oh how grateful he would be. Shaking off his spirit the luscious desires of his young, flaming heart, he forced his gaze upon the pages of the diary once more, which she has already presented in front of him, and she threw away the unnecessary parchment of political content.

"My father wrote that she died the night of the end of the War of Creation. I was two years old by then. Hashirama began gambling after he lost her, which was fifteen years ago, exactly when the war ended. This is right here, penned down!"

"What if Tobirama-sama was lying?"

"Why would someone lie in their own private diary?" Upon her forehead, tender wrinkles of confusion rushed across as she speculated about the sense in his question, for her it did not make much of it.

"For people like you who steal them?" Jiraiya shrugged as he rapidly averted his eyes before he blushed at the sight of her beautiful face.

"Or Hashirama is still hiding something. Perhaps he killed her!"

"That is nonsense, Tsunade. It has to be something else. Did you find anything useful besides this?"

"Just a lot of ramblings about the war, and the Three Great Swords. And about your dad, that he suddenly vanished for a day. Do you know anything about this?"

"No, he never talks about these things. Only of gods and how much he dislikes my mom's gossip." He sighed.

The sound of approaching footsteps alarmed them, especially the heiress who rapidly kicked the scrolls away and handed the diary to Jiraiya. Against all odds and his bewilderment, he hid the object behind his back as the two beheld the sight of the King and the General. Polite the two were as they bowed lightly and with gazes curious and souls heated, they awaited for the elders to speak.

"May we speak with you, Tsunade?" Hashirama asked and Jiraiya understood his request.

In a swift motion, he fled from the Library, leaving the young woman alone with them. He predicted no positive outcome of the encounter, since he knew her and her spirited character more than anyone at the Court.

"It is about the wedding. We have decided on holding it sooner. In a week."

Her astonishment was greater than the walls of China. At first, she did not react nor give sign to her puzzlement. In fact, she forced herself to restrain herself from any passionate expression and so, in a tone cold as marble, she brought herself to answer. "I am not going to marry him." She was firm and decided.

"How dare you say that?" Hashirama exclaimed in sheer disbelief. He was beyond convinced his actions were for the protection of his land and of his people. There was nobody else in whom he trusted more than he did in Madara, such peculiarity that made him believe he was making the best decision.

"You are not my father. You are a liar, and I despise liars more than I despise painful honesty." She left no time for him to react, and before he could have ventured to stop her, she was gone. Tsunade was not going to waste any more time to argue about such nuisance; her life was slowly turning upside down and she had but the slightest idea how to hold onto her sanity. She knew nothing, in the simplest meaning of the word. She was completely lost in this world. She had to get out, she must get out of it, somehow. Upon that thought, she knew where she had to go.

"Don't go after her." Madara placed his hand upon Hashirama's shoulder. "She will probably sulk in her room. If you wish, I shall later discuss this with her, privately."

"Thank you, my friend…" Reluctance rose in his voice but he knew he lacked choices. With a surrender of his will he nodded, watching the child he raised ran away from his sight. "I will retire to my chambers as well…I should have waited with this…I am not yet completely sober."

"You should do that, indeed. We will speak in the morning." Madara offered a candid smile, in which honesty there was none.

Hashirama left at last, while the General patiently waited in front of the the entrance of the Library, his gaze turned towards the illimitable sky.

It might have been at six o'clock, when he faced a great portion of the earth's visible area involved in thick shadow, which continued to advance with great rapidity. His smile grew into a macabre grin the longer he fixated his eyes at the landscape.

"You will drain yourself if you keep doing that." Orochimaru commented as he showed up after a few minutes, his presence barely ever perceptible when one was lost in contemplation.

"I know. I can feel my power weaken. I need to _feed_ , soon. I miss her taste. " The raven-crowned lord nodded in assent and resumed to speaking. "Hashirama is seeing things, and he cherishes my words as if they were flowing honey. I need to maintain his visions, more than ever."

"You gained the most advantageous genjutsu, if I may say that. You are dauntless, sagacious and handsome, my lord." The evil serpent advisor grinned in gruesome fashion as he complimented.

"I know, Orochimaru. My powers too are faultless. I have every right to rule." As he uttered those pompous syllables, he blinked and his eyes brightened into the shades of _crimson red_.

Little time passed when the whole surface in view was enveloped in the darkness of night. It was short after this time that the rays of the setting sun ceased to illumine. The night was dark, there was not a star to be seen and a drizzling rain, falling at intervals, rendered the kingdom very uncomfortable.

 _ **At night...**_

Her senses were instantly oppressed by mingled and conflicting perfumes, reeking up from strange convolute censers, together with multitudinous flaring and flickering tongues of emerald and violet fire that emanated from the lanterns, which guided her way through the main corridor of Ichiraku's courtesan house. Quietly she cursed as she gracefully made haste through the long hallway, and headed to the kitchen-like chamber, within which she was given food the other day.

She did not know what to say or if words were supposed to be said at all; upon second thought she grew unsure whether she was even supposed to escape from the palace and came straight here. She trembled at the thought of what might happen if she gave in to her pain, but before she could have slipped out unseen, it was too late. Unaware she was how fast her feet carried her to the chamber, so terribly unaware that it was the samurai's voice that shook her back to reality. For a brief moment, there was silence as they stared at each other. None of them knew the right words to say, for none of them anticipated such odd turn of events. They were not supposed to meet. Problems were too many and it was unnecessary for them to bring new ones upon themselves.

She bit upon her lower lip before she forced herself to speak. She needed answers, and she needed them from him, for it seemed he would speak them without hesitation. Her sweet voice trembled at each syllabification, her hands in fists as she struggled hard to hold her tongue and refrain her actions to the minimum. "Why did you do it?"

"I was given orders. They were clear. A scroll received, with the signature of the King." To her questioning gaze he replied with a calm and reserved posture. His deep husky voice remained cold and short, to the point. He knew each and every word was painful, and shook her very spirit yet there was nothing to be done. To his perception, she did not even change her royal garments to poor ones, little details as foretelling how miserable she must have been to come here.

"Hashirama would have never given orders like that!" Tsunade exclaimed with agony rising in her voice. She was furious but not because of him. It was herself she could not stand for being so ignorant about life that kept rushing above her head. She knew nothing, she knew nothing!

"I know that by now…" Kakashi nodded in acknowledgment as he descended his gaze for a short intervallum of time. His remorse was evident in every pore of his being.

"Were you paid for this?" She stepped closer with her eyes eager to catch the slightest glimpse of truth within his faultless visage.

"I was." Albeit it was so short, it hurt even more as the two words reverberated in her ears.

"And you took it? You took it, why?!" Furious the young woman grew, such bold courage she was driven that upon the first strike of anger her slim fingers grabbed at the edge of his shirt, pulling him almost against her. She could feel his breath and most certainly, he too noticed the warm breeze that tickled his neck.

"For the schooling of my son I did not hesitate upon taking it." He spat his answer on a single tone of icy coldness while his deep inky eyes sunk into hers. Whilst waiting for answer or a probable punch into his face, he thus feasted his eyes, and he perceived, at last, to his great trepidation, by an almost imperceptible start on the part of her, that she had become suddenly aware of both the intensity and the nature of his gaze.

Still, he was absolutely fascinated, and could not withdraw it, even for an instant. She turned aside her face while she did not release him from her upset grip, and again he saw only the chiseled contour of the half portion of the face. After some minutes, as if urged by curiosity to see if he was still looking, she gradually brought her face again around and again encountered his burning gaze. Her large hazel eyes fell instantly, and a deep blush mantled her cheeks as she stepped away from him. Instead of fury and pain, she caught herself agitated by the look upon his face, by the way he observed her, with no fear but keen attention.

If there was not a sudden presence breaking the mildly heated atmosphere of the kitchen, he would have not stopped until he kissed her. Little it took, merely a second or so that separated him from his deepest desire, when a familiar voice extinguished the burning flames of his spirit.

"I am so glad to find you here!" Rin exclaimed as she stopped at the door, the tousled locks upon her forehead suggesting she ran here, abandoning the warmth of the home and their child. "Shuya fell from the tree and he has been crying ever since, I think something might have happened!" She exclaimed and her features altered in profound worry. "We need a doctor!"

"Perhaps I can help." Tsunade turned, her cheeks still flushed, her heart beating in a speed she has never once experienced before. She did not think nor cared about the details; it felt natural to have a strong longing for helping people. "I am the Royal Physician." That would explain the splendor of her habiliments, she wondered.

"Could you? Would you please take a look at our son? We will pay you!" Rin bowed deeply in front of her, such a sight making the heiress more than uncomfortable. In that instant she knelt down and politely gestured her to rise back upon her feet. There was simply no need for this kind of courtesy outside of the palace, she was human as well, not an alien.

"Actually, the King has a new rule." Tsunade added and sinking both of her hands into her pockets she handed Kakashi few royal coins that were worth ten times more than those he would receive after completed missions. "You must accept it. And now show me the way."

She did not know why she felt so drawn to this man she barely knew, why would hatred and disgust be so easily extinguished from her soul with a single glimpse from him, why did he awake sensations she has never once felt before? What is more, she was profoundly perplexed at the single idea of being any near to his wife. He was married, he had a family. She barely knew him. He knew more of her than she did about herself, and that she could not deny no matter how much she wished to. Also, he was honest, and honesty appeared to be a luxury these days. Whenever they spoke, she would feel he understood her. Oh just how complicated this was! Why could she not just stop thinking of him? He was too close, indeed he was.

She stepped away as they ran, yet soon she caught up anyway. There was nothing to do. She could not stop stealing glances and that was least of her problem; he was looking back at her. Damn, that man!

Rin threw the doors open and the heiress rushed after her upon arriving at the small house. "Thank you, Iruka…" The young woman reserved her voice as she chained her true feelings into her bosom, in order to show no sign of dubiousness.

Tsunade sat beside the young boy who looked exactly like his father, there was no way he could ever deny that. She smiled at the thought, finding such connection more than heart-warming. "Could you please show me where it hurts?" Kind she was as she asked, and remained patient for the child to open up to her.

Shuya nodded timidly and lifted the layers of bandage from his knee; bruises painted the canvas of his body from which rich drops of scarlet blood were still gushing languidly.

Iruka left, as he wished not to disturb any of them, also he knew well the time he has spent in this house was beyond appropriate. The young mother buried her face into her husband's chest, who watched the royal in comforting stillness.

Tsunade placed her palms upon the wounded parts and with eyes closed her focus grew strict and at last warm green aura of chakra renewed the child's broken limbs. His febrile visage changed and his eyes beamed in vividness of his young spirit.

Rin could now receive her son, and she pressed him to her heart, and clang to its little form, to smother it with her caresses. Tears gathered in those eyes, but this time they were the origin of joy and not of fear. The entire woman thrilled throughout the soul and her gratitude could not be put in words.

"I will go, now…" Tsunade rose from the ground, when a sudden wave of vertigo welcomed her consciousness. She slowed down in motions and cautiously she slipped out of the house, wishing to remain unnoticed; there was no need to break the relief of the family, for the sight of them happy for each other could not have been more heart-warming. With little deep breaths she managed to reach the gates after the garden, merely a few steps away from the street when she felt a sudden sensation overwhelm her. It was not the beginning of ordinary swooning nor some kind of hunger or thirst bursting to her consciousness; once more flushed red upon the cheeks whilst she turned her slim figure, merely to face him. "Go back, Kakashi-sama…" She bowed for she requested such thing ever so boldly.

"I wanted to give you back the money you-…"

"Keep it. I insist. I have no idea of the struggles you have every day. I don't know anything of your pain. I don't know what burden it means to be a samurai either. You are the only one who never lied to me, albeit you had every reason to, notwithstanding the fact I did, to you. I wish…I wish I knew about my father sooner. We never bonded, in all fairness I barely knew him. I don't know how I feel. I just know that I need to…I need to learn a lot about life. And I want to fight better so I can protect myself. Please Kakashi-sama, please keep letting me come to train."

"Of course." He nodded in assent. "Also, let me give this to you. Shuya hurried, but he wanted to thank you…" The grey-crowned warrior spoke quietly as he handed her a piece of paper upon which reckless lines of drawing lay. "He said it is a dragon."

"A dragon?" She beamed as she observed the rushed strokes as her gaze fell upon it. "Why a dragon?"

"He did not make much sense…" Kakashi scratched the back of his head before he resumed. "He said when you stepped in he thought you were a dragon."

"Oh…" Tsunade giggled faintly. She traveled her gaze back at the man who fought harshly with his mind not to grow lost within her orbs again. "Thank you... Reminds me…Could you please tell me about the War of Creation? Not now, of course but tomorrow. My knowledge is still little and the more pieces I find it becoming less understandable."

"Yes I can tell you about it. Albeit whatever you heard must have been true."

"So there was a dragon? And the priest? And a _demon-hunter_?" Her curiosity piqued to his amusement as she asked ever so eagerly.

"My father was a _hunter_. That is why he was called White Fang."

"Stop! Speak no more! We shall grab dinner and you will tell me everything! Please, Kakashi-sama!"

"All right, all right." Kakashi couldn't help but chuckle at the cunning zeal of her spirit. "Ichiraku's then?"

"Ichiraku's it is." Tsunade nodded, and driven by a sudden and alien urge, she kissed his cheek upon which she wished to leave red marks of her anger, before.

The samurai could not see her red face nor he could depict the rapid rhythm of her heart as she made haste from the village and did not stop until she was upon the roofs of the palace and slipped back unseen to her chambers.


	5. Origins

**_Authoresse's Note: Since there is a LOT of information to explain certain things and especially of those why people have special powers and what are those and how they got them, I tried to put everything significant in BOLD. Those are for You to easily understand what I consider vital for the rest of the story. I hope you will enjoy this chapter, I wanted to give something original and unusual. :) Review! And huge thanks for taking time to read!_**

 ** _PS. The War was 15 years ago, which makes Tsuna and Jira 2, Kakashi 10 years old. The others are 20-21 while Sakumo is 30._**

* * *

 _In the beginning, before everything came into existence, all that reigned was Chaos. Chaos was unspeakably powerful and his power was limitless, and so the Universe was without definite shape or form._ _Aeon followed aeon and the immemorial years of nothingness were abruptly disturbed by the crystal bright noise of Light. Thereupon Light has come, it rose up and formed the heavens._ _The heavy and opaque particles of the stark, brooding void gradually precipitated and thus became the earth. It had taken an immeasurably long time before its true form was of a solid ground. In its earliest of stages, during millennia it resembled to a floating medusa within which powers of unmentionable length bred._

 _From its bosom, siblings of the most divine greatness were born, Izanagi and Izanami. Deities and all kinds of supernatural beings followed, but as long as the world remained in its chaotic state, work was nowhere to be done, for them. Whereupon, the siblings summoned the immortals and bade them descend to the nebulous place, to help each other consolidate it into terra firma._

 _ **Nine creatures** of immeasurable power were thus sent upon the floating planet. As deities could not roam upon its soil in true forms, they thus hid themselves into nine bodies of beasts. __They were at first perplexed how to commence their task bestowed upon them, but at length the Ichibi suggested to his companions that they shall all compete against each other and see who shall invent the most unique part of the world._

 _And so, they all obeyed to his suggestion. The Yonbi created three layers of the Earth, the inner core being its warmest within which, he hid his true powers. Ichibi besprinkled the surface of the mantle with innumerable dust of gold, which he then named sand. Nibi, Sanbi and Gobi brought to life small creatures to serve the lands, which they called animals._ _Nanabi grew fascinated with the majestic living things, so he decided upon the invention of smaller neighbors, the insects._

 _When eight of them were thus done, only the Kyuubi remained who seemed to neglect the deed of creation and instead, he fell into a profound slumber. Upset they grew upon their sibling's behavior and in unjustified zeal, they battled upon the sacred ground._

 _Izanami and Izanagi's disappointment was so grave that at last they cursed the nine deities and locked them into their form of beasts for eternity. Never could they return to the heavens, until they learnt to love the Earth._ _After such failure, the two decided to form creatures to look after the world and nourish it and help its habitants grow, thus Izanagi's blessing came in the form of the first humans. Man and woman both appeared as the mirror of him and his sister._

 _Izanami, however disliked the fragility of these beings who were slowly increasing in number. Upon one occasion, when her envy towards the mortals became unbearable, she created demons in order to annihilate her brother's dearest creations._ _Nonetheless, she could not know how devoted humanity grew to their Lord, and so they prayed and exalted his name in loud hails. They built shrines where they adored him and thus Izanagi's affection was so profound he bestowed the power of heavens upon those cherishing him most, called_ _ **priests**_ _and monks._

 _Izanami was then expelled from Heaven and she created her own kingdom, which she named Hell. From Hell, more demons and beasts arose, yet her anger could never excel those of the one with bright spears and divine aid._

 _Humans were supported by the magical objects of Izanagi, and smaller deities like dragons stood by their sides. In order to send back Izanami's anger to Hell, demon hunters emerged amidst those most courageous, who were given the power of_ _ **Lightning**_ _._

 _Those mortals who yet worshipped the sister of the Lord, became known as dark lords, possessing special eyes called_ _ **Sharinga**_ _ **n**._

* * *

As she spoke, she felt as if she breathed an atmosphere of dull, heavy, suffocating sorrow. An air of stern, and irredeemable gloom hung over the sojourners and pervaded all that was life. "This war you speak of, my King…Is this really necessary?"

"If we do not do something now, everything we have built so far will become desolate." He resumed, with a singular alteration of voice and manner. "This vicinity within which we live is one of the most prosperous of all, my Dear. Other tribes have been long coveting its lands and living beings but never possessed enough strength to be threat to us. Not until now."

"Hashirama is right, Himeko." Tobirama sighed as he at last joined the conversation. "It seems that the Lightning tribe has recently joined forces with the Water. They have been plotting an attack on us since god knows when. We saw it with our own eyes, with Madara."

The room in which they resided was very large and lofty. The windows were long, narrow, and pointed, and so vast a distance from the black oaken floor. Feeble gleams of pale, hollow crystal light made their way through the latticed panes, while the eyes still struggled in vain to reach the remotest angles of the chamber, or the recesses of the stark ceiling.

Dark, brooding draperies hung upon the walls instead of the usual fashion of bright gold and red. The general furniture was profuse, antique, and tattered. Instead of vitality, they emphasized the dull lifelessness of the scene.

"Indeed." Madara nodded as he leisurely uplifted his eyes when words were put into sounds and thus he replied briefly. The lords and lady surrounded a round table upon which he rested his feet. Occasionally, he drew deep, heavy sighs from his throat, merely to give sign to his devastating ennui. "I say we kill them all and impale the bodies, leave them on the battleground and use them as a message to those nations wishing to take over our place."

"We have heard your hideous ideas Madara, and enough times we clearly neglected those ludicrous thoughts. We need to bring peace in this world, not more bloodshed." Presently the silver-crowned Prince replied, his resplendent crimson eyes burning in reserved dislike towards the other. Never once the two understood each other, and the more time they were forced to spend together, the harder their pacification became.

"How will you do that, Tobirama?" The raven-crowned lord averted his gaze at him as he asked sardonically. "Last time you were eager to provide something for this country was in the chamber of Hi-"

"Enough!" Hashirama rose from his seat in that instant, for a fool he was indeed.

Madara respited from furthering his comment for the sake of his friend who seemed even more pitiful than of those who made an idiot of him. There was no wonder why the Uchiha fancied these gatherings, as there was always something to trick with. Wicked he was, oh wicked to the bone.

Himeko stood up after the King's rise, since she could not bear any longer the suffocating atmosphere of fiendish humor. She was by no means a saint, and remorse was always eager to mangle on her heart. Thus, amidst weary apologies, she made haste to the exit and did not look back.

"Was this really necessary, my friend?" Hashirama sighed in surrender as he fell back into the chair. He rested his forehead in his palm, wishing to sink into an abysmal void of which he could never come out.

The sordid smell of pathos lingered in his lungs and defeated he truly was, but not by his country but by his own weakness. Weak he was, without a doubt since he allowed to be betrayed by those he loved most and as he could sank even lower, he even cherished and grew fond of the breathing blasphemy of lustful treachery; he considered the daughter of his wife and brother his own, and did his utmost to make her happy.

"I pity you." Madara replied presently.

"You make that clear during every occasion." He spoke in hopeless resignation. "As for the war…" With a deep breath taken, he at last mitigated the awkwardness of the atmosphere as he resumed. "What do we have so far? What information we have of the enemy? We are against the whole world, which is only now beginning to be shaped into order."

"For that order to happen, this war will be inevitable." Madara added for the sake of the argument, as he became lost in the contemplation of victorious visions. "We have been told furtive tales of horrible shadows lurking amidst the trees, with mocking resemblance to the Beasts."

"You say those creatures are real?" Hashirama's visage provided an unillumined view, as naïve and perhaps too tender hearted he was. He reverted to the state of surprise and with chief interest, he drank Madara's words.

"Oh yes, they are. Your brother has encountered one the last time we sent our troops against the Wind tribe." The raven lord began demurely. "Presumably, the nations have been trying to collect them to use them against us. Pitiful they are, as these demons cannot really be controlled."

"Upon that point, I disagree." Tobirama expressed his belief, which was rapidly commented by the other.

"And upon this point I could not care less of your opinion." The devil's perfect portraiture changed in tender strokes of sarcasm. "We should focus on the possibility of being attacked by immortal power and possess something of a similar kind."

"You speak like you have already planned it all out." Tobirama narrowed his eyes in suspicion while Hashirama listened with keen attention. No matter how cruel Madara's tools were in a battle, never once they came out defeated from it.

"We must talk to the priest and ask the power of the gods. He can communicate with the other side." Spoke he very plainly as if the subject was of an ordinary matter.

"And just with which side you wish to enter into a conversation?" Tobirama was suspicious and for a very good reason.

"Oh but of course with the good one!" Lies rolled on his pernicious tongue but lied he so well the truth thus remained inaccessible. "Where is our priest?"

"Ryoushun?" Hashirama lifted his gaze up at last. "He is supposed to be at the shrine."

The Uchiha gazed upon the King as he spoke for some moments, and watched him with a feeling half of pity half of awe. "We must waste no more time, then. He could ask Lord Izanagi to lend us his powers just until the war is over. Perhaps he could lend us a deity."

"That is too much of a risk, Madara." The silver-crowned Prince interrupted him as he speculated upon his wisely chosen words. "We cannot risk the summoning of any kinds of demons, good or bad. **The hunters do not make a difference between them**. If the White Fang kills our own ally, Lord Izanagi will never forgive us and we will be doomed."

The two entered into a discussion of divine levels, to which Hashirama felt unable to connect. His mind was delirious with the problems of the land he cherished so dearly, and so he grew embittered by the brooding fear that closed upon them.

"Then we should get rid of that hunter." Spoke the raven devil in tone of low cunning. Madara was always eager to express his beliefs, which most frequently were of a fiendish nature.

"We will do whatever we must, in order to bring peace in the world. And if we succeed, we will name this land our own, and build our proper kingdom on it." The King at last spoke and albeit quiet he was, the power of his words reverberated through the deepest pits of soul. Even the thinnest of blood curdled by his stern order as he uttered those majestic syllables of a victorious future.

"I have to agree with Madara. If we can only win with a demon, we will ask for one. If we need magic to detain our lands from drowning in our people's blood, then we will ask for it. I want our men to come home to their families and build a place in which they love living. We find Ryoushun now and he shall tell us what we must know."

"I am not participating in this then."

"You will, brother. That is my order." The King's countenance wore a mingled expression of severity and honesty as he added.

 _ **Not long after...**_

In height, the priest might have been below the medium size. Although, sometimes there were moments of intense passion when his frame actually _expanded_ and belied the assertion, especially during times of praying.

He stood and looked at them with the mouth and chin of a deity: they were singular, wild, full, and he possessed liquid eyes, whose shades oftentimes varied from pure emerald to intense and brilliant blue. Also, there was a profusion of curling, white hair, from which his lofty forehead gleamed forth at intervals all light and ivory. Yet his countenance was, nevertheless, one of those which all men have seen at some period of their lives, and have never afterwards seen it again. It had no peculiar expression to be burnt upon the memory. It was a countenance seen and instantly forgotten.

"I have been expecting you." Spoke he as he rose from the porch upon which he leisurely sat. His voice was a queer combination of kindness and perplexity, which always puzzled those around him or put them at ease, as there was no in between.

"Sure you have." Madara bowed albeit his reaction was by no means polite. "We must speak with you, about the war."

The King and the Prince too bowed in generous manner and let the priest answer.

He asked as Madara drew his notice to the curious. "What can I do?"

"We need the power of Lord Izanagi." Hashirama began as he was the head of the land. "It is to be requested for only the time of war. We believe our enemies are already in possession of supernatural powers with which we cannot compete by ourselves."

Ryoushun nodded in the positive as he listened obediently to his mortal master. "I do not wish to put you in any more peril my King, and suppose I ought to warn you that possession of unearthly powers won't be very safe. However I think you will find any risks worth running, for the sake of our home."

"I am willing to do anything that will ensure the safety of my people." He said without the slightest of hesitation.

Tobirama folded his arms tautly over his chest as he listened quietly, knowing he would be simply ignored if he wished to express his remonstrance, whereas there were many. He was always the more realistic one while Hashirama easily got carried away with the fiercely burning passion for those he loved, and indeed he loved many. His brother had a heart large enough to welcome a country, for which he would die any time. That is why Tobirama refused to ever become King, whereas he could never be as devoted as Hashirama was, such a trait he admired more than anything else.

"Give me your swords. I will ask Lord Izanagi to bless it with his power. The King shall possess the greatness of protection, Prince Tobirama the skill to fight injustice, and General Madara the will to set goals." Ryoushun spoke composedly and the lords obeyed to his request. The swords were laid down and the priest took them politely.

"If the ritual is done, inform me about it." Tobirama was short in reaction and he spoke no more; with a simple turn of his back, he left the three at the sacred scene, his footfalls hastened with inquietude.

"Hashirama." Madara stepped closer to the one who meditated upon the visions that filled his mind. At last, they were freed from the burdensome atmosphere of the silver-crowned leader. "There is more."

"More of what?" Ryoushun enquired for further information with sharp expectancy of vile outcomes. There was a distinct anxiety on that score, the mere demeanor of the raven-crowned lord surmised no goodness. "You seek even greater power?"

"We do. We need a demon. Something magnificent enough to let us rid ourselves from this pest we call enemies. I need a dragon. We need it."

"A dragon?!" Hashirama's eyes widened in phobic anguish. He could not believe his ears.

"A dragon's power excels those of the tailed beasts. If they indeed have any in possession, we will have nothing to fear. Also, its blood grants immeasurable strength and its tears revive the profoundest decay of the earth. It is a spirit of **healing** and of **power**."

"Its blood is an unholy nourishment for those who fight good, lord Madara." The priest warned as he replied. "If you wish to bring a definite end to the upcoming pandemonium with a dragon, you must never draw its blood. You must not turn your sword against a divine creature, only if you wish to corrupt the power you possess. Also, I must admit I do not half like your request. Especially if you recall the White Fang is the most skilled hunter of the world. Hunters **are drawn** to the presence of demons the second they step on this earth. They are bewitched by their divine energies and usually they would know about this blasphemous trickery."

"Hashirama, you are the king." Madara turned to him, the King hypnotized by the bewitching ringing of his voice. "We must proceed to this ritual, or the power of swords will be nothing. Do you want people to die? Do you want to lose the land? We can survive this with no casualties. We won't have to shed more blood. We need that dragon."

The King nodded in the positive. As much as he believed in the good outcome of things, he feared more than any to lose those precious to him. The land of fire was not safe, there were too many things to be done. His friend was the one he trusted most, for he was willing to go so far as to risk everything for the sake of the nation, or so the naïve King believed it was the true intention of Madara. "Priest, summon the dragon. When the war ends, every power given to us will be instantly returned to Lord Izanagi."

With a heavy heart and unvoiced remonstrance Ryoushun bowed in assent. "Please follow me, then." Said he at last and unnoticed they slipped past the shrine, and made haste into a neglected garden. The air abruptly grew cold as they entered a world of supreme mysteries. It was an unearthly scenery opening to their sight, in which the atmosphere was blanketed in a thick, mystic vapor.

There was to be found an oily pond in the middle of this moon-cursed garden, bending trees howling in the forceful wind. They passed through an onyx bridge upon which Hashirama's foot slipped near a horribly yawning stone and he had a moment of ecstatic fear.

Not long after they arrived to a vault, and the priest beckoned for them to wait patiently. The removal of the slab revealed a black aperture, from which rushed an effluence of miasmal gases so nauseous that they started back in horror.

Madara covered his mouth as his lungs were filled with the rich stench of decay. They descended into the mortuary within the nameless menace that awaited them.

The walls were covered in bones that shone in leaden-hue. Carvings within them were to perceive yet none of them could conceive the meanings. Underneath their feet more bones lay scattered, from side to side bloated corpses emanated rich odor of rotting insides.

Hashirama wished to pour into the air a flood of perplexed questions, yet it was rather an impossible task to do, since he too felt sickened by the hideously amplified smell. He could not imagine, even from what he has read about magians and from what he has been told, the things he was seeing and soon would do.

It was fiendish work, indeed, and he doubted if any men without iron sensibilities could ever see it through and come out alive and sane. But responsibility is in a certain sense his, and he couldn't drag anyone down to a probable death or madness if they were to be defeated in the war.

His mind conceived the most ghastly fantasies and dreadful illusions; and the grotesque stones and damp deadly corridor seemed to assume a hideous personality at the end, a half-sentience, not really a human. Amorphous shadows seemed to lurk in the darker recesses of the bone-choked place and to flit as in some blasphemous ceremonial procession.

At the end of the path, there was an altar, beside which a serpent-like creature stood. "King Hashirama." He bowed in deep manner but the King was still hypnotized by the brain-blasting visions in front of him.

"Who are you?" Madara asked as he stood beside Hashirama, his countenance by no means affected anymore.

"My name is Orochimaru, Lord Madara. I serve Ryoushun and help with the rituals. I will be aid to you today."

Fainting and gasping, the King looked at that leprous fire, and saw the cloaked throngs of unearthly shadows forming a semicircle around the blazing pillar. It was the Ryuu-rite, older than man was and fated to survive him. And in the abysmal horror of the vault he saw them do the rite, and adore the sick pillar of flame and throw within the fire bones and rotten vegetation of decayed lands. He saw this, and he saw something amorphously squatted far away from the light yet he could not conceive what it truly was. Nothing in that moment made much sense, as vanishing echoes of shocking cries still reverberated in the damp vaults, born from the flames of sick fire. But what frightened him most was that flaming column; spouting volcanically from depths profound and inconceivable, casting no shadows as healthy a flame should, and coating the stones above with a nasty, venomous slime.

As in all that seething combustion no warmth lay, but only the clamminess of death and orgy of corruption. The priest made stiff ceremonial motions to the semicircle he faced. At certain stages of the ritual, he held above his head that abhorrent scroll of unholy teachings he had taken with him; and Hashirama followed obediently every step he must, as he was summoned to this for the sake of his people.

And he would do anything for them. Then the priest made a signal to the serpent in the darkness who began to play on a flute emanating the most gruesome noises of human ears. It rang like shrill cries, and sharp knives. As he did, so a horror unthinkable and unexpected happened. At this horror, the frightened King sank nearly onto the slimy, damp, rotten earth, transfixed with a dread not of this nor any world, but only of the mad spaces between the bright yellow stars. It is with a confused recollection that Hashirama brought to mind the circumstances of that meeting and the events that have occurred.

 _The ritual was successful however, and the dragon was born from the flames of all mighty visions. And the swords were blessed by the power of the Lord and victory has come upon the Fire tribe._ _It took three days and three nights and the War of Creation settled the rules and borders of the five main nations. Rulers emerged in the main villages who guided their tribes into power. Peace was slow to come yet it advanced in lazy steps._

 _ **After the War...**_

"We have to get the dragon back before The White Fang kills it." Tobirama stood at the window, his blood-red eyes canvassing the blooming scenery of the Hidden Leaf in front of him. "I cannot believe you did this."

"I cannot believe you slept with my wife and had a child." Hashirama retorted sharp as a knife as the thorns seemed to become vital in his heart. It beat with the reminder of his foolishness, and so he deserved that reminder, forever.

"Hashirama…"

"Just don't." The King stepped beside his brother and engaged his attention in the same scenery. And so he resumed. "For Tsunade to become a queen, she will always have my affection and support. But do not, -for the sake of our brotherhood-, lecture me about my mistakes, since you have made plenty yourself. We survived this horrible war with losing less than a third of our men. If there was no dragon, even our swords were of no use. Madara was right, the people of Suna had a beast, and we still don't know how to stop the one lurking in the shadows of our land, the Kyuubi. Without the powers we were given, we could have been at the gravest of disadvantage. Every tribe joined against us. I still cannot fathom it. I cannot."

Tobirama, since he could not argue with his views, nodded quietly in assent. "Shall I give you back my sword?"

"No. Ryoushun said the power of the Three Great Swords shall remain, as long as we serve Lord Izanagi. We must do good deeds, until we die. And the dragon…I will talk to Madara and ask him about it."

"Ask him about it?!" The silver-crowned shinobi grew suspicious as the words uttered riveted his concern. "Where is he now?"

"I asked him to take care of the dragon. He said he would make sure everything is settled."

Without further reply or hesitation, he rifled from the chamber.

Grey clouds rushed on forever, the discordant melody of intermittent lightning shaking the spirit of the undisturbed earth. Trees clashed with a mighty sound as he ran under the heavy crowns of the majestic pillars of Nature. He felt he was already too late and an avalanche of spirit-seizing agony paralyzed him. Something was terribly wrong and he was way too late he knew it, when a female voice from the recesses of the expanding palace broke suddenly upon the night, in one wild, hysterical, and a long continued shriek shook his heart to terror.

 _ **Meanwhile...**_

The dispute was brief indeed, but nonetheless deadly. It was frantic with every species of wild excitement, and felt within his arms the energy and power of a multitude. "This is for the sake of the village! The dragon is a demon! It must be stopped!" He was enraged as he shouted, his eyes riveted at his enemy.

"No! The dragon is mine! Its power is mine!" Madara growled as he drew his sword out of its sheath, his blood boiling in sheer desire to impale the hunter in front of him. "Step away, you piece of dog shit."

"I will not allow you to acquire the power." Sakumo remained reserved in tone while he wielded his katana in front of him. He was ready to strike at any second, whilst the General tensed in focus.

It was when the priest's abrupt decision has changed everything forever, whilst the hunter and dark lord engaged themselves in a fierce battle of words, Ryoushun hit the ground of the heiress' bedroom three times with his bewitched spear. His mouth opened and devilish melody of unholy chant interrupted the heavy atmosphere. Everyone grew quiet in that moment, and the spirit of dragon appeared in front of them all. He directed the tip of his bronze weapon at the beast, whose power was instantly engulfed by the object. Loud, terrifying roars howled in the night, as the dragon was locked into the spear.

Himeko was holding her child in her arms, the shock visible upon her features. She was paralyzed with fear, so frozen she became that the priest could grab the sleeping royal and put her upon the ground; the demon had to be released into a human vessel, within which it would remain dormant, and the mercy of the Lord would be granted. If not, the whole tribe would face the rage of God.

"No!" Madara shouted with eyes trembling frantically as he was the first to come into full apprehension of the sudden changes of events.

Himeko screamed after, the horrifying vision of her only child on the ground, impaled by the end of the spear the dragon's spirit taking over the small, innocent body.

She did not think any further, when the demon hunter came into her sight, his eyes burning with the passion of killing her possessed daughter. In a few seconds she grabbed at a letter opener upon the desk and by sheer strength she stabbed the White Fang in the lungs.

Madara's fury merely grew when he realized how late he was. He had to avoid being caught and having the truth spoken out. He had no mercy for the Queen, and he plunged his sword with brute ferocity repeatedly through and through her bosom. The katana was so long and so deadly it penetrated both the woman and her victim.

Blood flowed abundantly from their mouths and wounds, their sights lost by the crimson essence of life. Both the Queen and the hunter were dead and their corpses fell upon the ground with a loud thud.

"I am going to kill you too." Madara spoke menacingly as he at last averted his eyes at the priest holding the child. "Give me that thing."

"No."

At that instant, some person tried the latch of the door. Madara hastened to prevent an intrusion, and then immediately returned to his dead antagonists. There is no human language, which can adequately portray that astonishment, that excitement which possessed him at the spectacle that was presented to view. "Hand her to me, now."

"You corrupted the sword, Madara." The serpent servant of the priest appeared from thin air behind the general who remained dauntless in demeanor and so Orochimaru resumed. "You can't have the dragon's strength anymore."

"What does that mean?!" He demanded in loud roar of displeased manner.

"Once the power you hold runs out, you will be weak. Unless…." Orochimaru licked around his lips as he approached him ever so leisurely.

"Unless?! Speak!" He wielded his katana at him in that moment, the demon by no means aghast.

" _Unless you feed from the blood of the dragon._ "

"But the dragon is in that fucking child!"

"That facilitates your task, my lord." The serpent smiled warmly. "And I am certain the priest will keep his mouth closed, for the sake of his son. Jiraiya, is it?"

"Do not approach him!" The priest narrowed his eyes as he already knew of his defeat. Even though the dragon was sealed and the mercy of God was ensured, no life was safe anymore.

Before the dispute could have furthered, the latch of the door was broken and Tobirama broke in. He knew he was late, oh how late he was he could only fathom it now. There was nobody living in front of him, or so he believed. The real conspirators were long gone and nothing could betray their names.

The Prince fell upon his knees and broke out in heavy, endless tears that poured down his cheeks. His daughter's loud cry shook him to consciousness and he lifted the poor child into his arms. He could not at all comprehend the meaning of the massacre that lay in front of his eyes.

"Father…"

There was a new voice that came up to his ears, a few moments after. He choked his burning agony in his throat and glanced at the young samurai beside him.

"I am sorry, Kakashi. I do not know what has happened…I do not…"

"Father…" The youngster stumbled and fell by the side of his father's lifeless body and slipped the magical katana from the light grip of his corpse. Upon the moment of touching the weapon, a sudden strike of **lightning** ran through his spine like a chill on a cold winter night. "Please wake up…" He whispered and nudged the White Fang several times until Tobirama led him out of the room. This was no sight to anyone, especially not for someone only ten years of age.

 _And so, one sword was corrupted by the insatiable hunger for more power and that hunger has never ceased since. Since the dark lord needs to feed, and the dragon must lay dormant. But like any other secret, things shall come to light, once. And when they do, unspeakable tragedy occurs._

 _ **Present night...**_

"Troubles with sleeping?"

"No…I didn't feel well." Tsunade's lips curled in a weary yet candid smile while her gaze remained upon the stark canvas of the heavens. She waited until Jiraiya sat beside her upon the cold oak stair of the porch and she inhaled the chilly air of late night. "I think I am being haunted."

"What do you mean?" He asked on a boyish tone, while his attention was completely hers.

"Remember when I told you that I had those dreams when something would sneak into my room and bite me? And you said I read too much silly novels?"

"Yes." Jiraiya nodded in the positive.

"I had that dream again…And… Just look." She sighed and with that moment, she slowly lowered the silken garment of her nightgown, revealing the ivory skin upon her bosom. Little below her shoulder there gleamed two dots of red bruises, sweetly painful when being touched. "What if it was real all this time? What if there is something?"


	6. A Lover's Complaint

_**"You don't love someone for their looks, or their clothes, or for their fancy car, but because they sing a song only you can hear." -Oscar Wilde**_

* * *

"The world would be so boring without idiots like him to amuse me." Madara speculated upon the fortunate turn of events that brightened his mood since the funeral. Days have stealthily and steadily elapsed, most certainly to his favor.

The lord was encompassed by the massy walls of his lofty chamber which he now shared with his most faithful advisor, the serpent-tongued Orochimaru and two female. About the room, in endless irregularity were innumerable weapons black, and ancient, and time-worn, around which piled desperately various bethumbed books and scrolls lay scattered, and so seamed with initial letters, notes and spells at full length.

Grotesque figures of vicious demons and hideous beasts stood erect and around and about of the chamber, as to have entirely lost what little of original form might have been their portion in days long departed. A huge bucket with water stood at one extremity of the room for reasons strictly unknown, and a large clock of stupendous dimensions at the other, its brazen lungs long exhausted by the time of immemorial length.

"Hashirama never stood a chance against your grandeur, my lord. You have him since the day he befriended you. I would be rather surprised if he ever detected the cheat." Said the serpent on a measured, reserved tone, while his thoughts were of a different nature. Orochimaru was fond of the image of power and he most importantly enjoyed the taste of it, thus eager he was to serve the general whenever victory seemed to follow their he uttered those words of unshakeable truth, his sharp eyes feasted on the delicious sight in front of him. Hungrily he beheld Madara being vested by the two female companions, slender fingers carefully shrouding him from head to toe.

"So tell me more, how shall it all advance? We need to start a riot soon. After we killed Hashirama, of course." The Uchiha devil replied in rigid candor, being infallible of their triumph.

The lord himself fancied the luscious ritual of nobles, since oftentimes he took advantage in it. Sardonically he lingered his dark inky eyes down on one of the servants in front of him, the girl of young age and cunning frame busy in the task of tying his undergarments.

Ever so deliberate she worked as she was forbidden to touch the man of blue blood, since such actions were blasphemous and nonetheless treacherous in nature. However, the general had all the rights to do as he pleased and most of the times he commanded pleasure, for that matter.

"The samurai will follow their leaders. If we kill the king, we need to make sure they pledge their loyalty to us first. We can do that if their master commands them to serve us, instead of him. That shan't be trouble for us, my lord." Orochimaru resumed in theorizing, enjoying dearly the animated conversation with Madara.

The raven-crowned warrior's eyes inspected the uncommunicative servant, whose hands slipped above the most favored part of his body, which would have been by no means unfavorable to her if he once decided upon 'blessing' her heaven with it. "Look at me, wench." He commanded at last, the corner of his lascivious lips tugged upwards in a voluptuous smirk. Before she could have answered and refused, his hand reached down and cupped her soft chin between his fingers. Her face was lifted to his direction, large orbs of terror seeking redemption as she looked at him.

"Tell me who shall be the most proper king for Konoha!" His eyes locked to hers, intentions devoid of any kindness. He was not a kind man, in fact he possessed no valiant features for a person. Madara could not even be considered as a person that devil he was, a demon not even the darkest dreams could have created.

"Ha-Hashirama Senju, my lord." Softly she spoke and the chamber rang with the echoes of her tender verdict. Hashirama was the most appropriate for the title and albeit his mind was slowly eaten away by madness, no country has ever known such justice and kindness with which he reigned and by degrees lifted out the Hidden Leaf from its original chaos. The truth did not half please the evil lord whose anger grew tangible in the atmosphere. The female servant whimpered quietly as more pain she could take not, as the simple touch of Madara rapidly turned into a forceful, tight grip, and so she feared her jaw would be instantly broken into two.

Loquacious she was most certainly not, yet his fearsome gaze impelled her to speak, before he induced a permanent malformation upon her face. "Please…My lord…Have…Have mercy…let me go…" If only she had restrained the words to flow, perhaps she could mitigated the Uchiha's anger and thus escape with no reminder of her recklessness.

"Mercy? You want mercy, wench?" Her entreaty delighted the warrior and alongside a single motion he drew his katana out of its scabbard and forthwith slashed her face across with the weapon's sharp edge. "There is your mercy." He grinned to the sight his inky gaze beheld, which lifted his mood to his utmost amazement. During the same moment elapsing, he tilted his head backwards to inspect the terrified lineament of the other servant's face, who, rapid in notice- hurried in finishing him vesting.

Her trembling hands shrouded the broad shoulders of the lord while she dared not glance at her sister's blood-painted face. She knew well, that with a singular sign to communicate her feelings she would suffer worse consequences, since the lord was indeed impetuous like a child and so he bided no more whimper of low-class people as they were. She bowed deeply and her hands reached for the other who battled with her tears as they flew abundantly.

"Get out, dumb whores. You ruined my mood, and can't even dress me properly." Gravely displeased, he observed his cloak as he swore and upon second thought, he found it unbearably unfitting for the rest of his habiliments, which only aggravated his vexed behavior.

Orochimaru was glad to help and he vacated the chair within which he comfortably rested, and with hastened steps he picked up a long haori of matching colors and offered it most humbly to Madara. Satisfaction changed his faultless portraiture and with a warm smile, he allowed the serpent to change the cloak on him. "Women these days are such a nuisance, dear Orochimaru. I believe a dog can be of more use than them." Madara sighed as if a heavy stone was carried upon his shoulders yet it was nowhere the case.

Before he could have furthered his thoughts of transcendence, there was a short yet stern knock upon the chamber's doors. The two lofty bamboo gates slid apart and the sun's bright rays blinded the two for a brief passing of time.

The heiress went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a cold tone. "Madara, I must speak with you. Only with you."

"Orochimaru shall stay." The lord began as he stood aghast for a second and upon second thought, he found himself perplexed by the young woman's boldness. Had she no respect for those superior to her? She was no sovereign in his eyes, in fact he could think but little of those of the weaker sex. "And you will call me your 'Dear beloved', 'My lord' or 'My husband' otherwise I will force those words out of your throat and give a better use to your tongue."

The serpent servant grew quiet as he once more slipped back into the comfort of the velvet chair to have a better sight at the rapidly heating scene in front of him. Never once he witnessed the sharpness of the Senju girl's tongue and to his surprise, it was sharper than a knife, in which he found great delight.

Tsunade continued without being in any manner disturbed by these harsh and most ungentlemanly comments on the part of the raven-crowned shinobi. "I was wondering who else can give orders to the King's troops, after which I realized it is impossible, only he can do that. And then I began to wonder if someone from the Court, close to Hashirama-san can communicate false demands under his name to his samurai."

"Why would anyone do that?" Madara hesitated upon the question as he had to think before he ejaculated those wisely chosen words. His puzzlement was visible upon his face as blood rushed to his temples and little drops of sweat gleamed under the deficient light of the room, since window there was none.

"Indeed, General, why? I wonder why would my uncle request anyone to kill my father. Why would he want his only brother dead? Since I know a samurai was hired, from our village. The Code of Bushidou has one rule that is strictest of all, that bears most significance and that is the purest, the irrevocable loyalty to their master. Hashirama-san is their master! Which means someone pretended to be him! And that can only happen by a contract because people know his face!" In the enthusiasm of her confidence, she restrained any suspicion of fear and resumed dauntlessly. "They have to carry out the cruelest of orders if they are demanded from the king, but if he did not ask such a thing, then it has to be someone close enough to know his writing, to keep track of it and observe it with such precision that it was flawlessly copied."

"Do you have anyone in mind or you simply came here to accuse me with such a nonsense?" Madara was losing his patience since he felt cornered; it was not the fact of accusation but the question of by whom. She was nothing in his eyes, nothing than the source of meal to indulge himself with.

With ludicrous pride he stood in front of her, his eyes mad in red lights of anger. "Who fills your empty head with such madness, Tsunade? And tell me also, who gives you the right to speak to me like that? Who do you think you are?!"

She did not move away and she stood the lord's haunting gaze sternly. Tsunade talked more freely to get rid of the feeling of fear but it continued and gained definiteness as she furthered the General's displeasance. "I have you in mind, lord Madara." She spoke and hesitated upon continuance, when a sudden gush of dread washed over her. But this hesitation was only momentary and so she resumed fiercely. "You are closest to my uncle who never once questioned your words. But I question them as keenly as my father did."

Her words afforded Orochimaru the most unequivocal delight, as he kept his eyes riveted at the two in front of him. He had to restrain himself from laughing, for it was one of the best theatrical plays he has witnessed in a long time. The young woman's stirred boldness and the dark lord's panic was beyond amusing to him.

In an absolute frenzy of wrath, the General turned at once to her who had thus pushed him to madness, and seized her violently by the collar of her royal garments. "What did you just say?!" He demanded in a growl of frustration while his heart was beating with the creeping fear of doom.

"That I think you are the one ordering people around! I think you are a demon!"

Madara grew irritated beyond endurance and upon a reckless drive, his palm rendered her to a half-swooned state as she was forthwith remitted against the dark old floor. His slap was powerful and her cheek reddened to the raw sensation of pain. At length, while, stupefied and terror-stricken, she stood back up in expectation of another hit upon her face. There was a long minute of silence, as the injudicious actions of the General shocked him with the same heaviness with which he produced such assault.

The heiress looked at him, unfaltering in features while her petite frame shook convulsively with pain and fear. "I will make sure to have your head on the ground before you harm any more of us." She threatened him with the same passion of her father, with the same decidedness of a Senju. Tsunade's severity in fact scared the General, who upon that vile impulse ventured to kill her. In that moment, she sensed his true intentions and thus she made haste to the doors and smashed them wide open and did not look back. If she did, she would have never seen the light again. She knew it.

Orochimaru chuckled at the sight of the frenzied lord who was lost in grabbing the right katana for his deeds.

"What is so funny?!" He roared like the howling of the demoniacal wind, his eyes sharpened in fury that only made his lineaments even more exotic. Madara was indeed a man of exoticism, every inch of his body riveting attention of both men and women.

"You take her too seriously, my lord." The serpent offered a low cunning smile as he approached his master, and took his hand that smote with divine power on the young woman. "There is nothing to fear. We have enough people to make good use of, in times like these. Nobody will believe her. Rest your heart." He offered candidly, as he deliberately licked the raw fingers of the General, the burning sensation of his slap slowly dissipating at the magical tip of the snake's tongue. The advisor took a silken handkerchief from his pocket and patted the treated hand of his lord who remained patient during such care.

"You are saying we can put someone else at fault?"

"Of course, my lord. Leave it to me. It is time we get rid of the priest, he is a perfect candidate, don't you think?" Orochimaru's deep eyes beamed at the General who gave his assent in a single nod.

"How long do you need to arrange this?"

"Give me until tonight. I will make sure to orphan that Jiraiya kid. Perhaps, he will be less bothersome then."

"Good." Madara declared.

 _ **Meanwhile...**_

All was gray shadow, a weak and irregular remembrance, an indistinct regathering of feeble pleasures and phantasmagoric pains as he pondered. Think he could not anymore, for thoughts were out of the reach of the ill mind. As he looked out of the window, the sight in front of him was of no earthly nature. Immensely tall trunks of trees, gray and leafless, rose up in endless succession as far as the eye could reach. Their roots were concealed in bogs above which miasmal effluence of mystic vapor spread widely, and whose dreary water lay intensely dark as the night, still, and all together terrible, underneath. These strange trees seemed endowed with a human vitality, which was even odder than the very way they rose from the putrid, moist-stained grass, and waved back and forth their cragged arms in the shrill and piercing accents of the most acute agony and despair.

"King Hashirama…" Hiruzen cleared his throat as he once more ventured to speak. He was sitting upon the tatami ground while the ruler in front of him lay upon a couch, low and sculptured of solid ebony.

The room trembled to the vibration of melancholic music of the King's deep tone as he at last was shaken back to consciousness. "Yes, yes…Excuse me, Lord Hiruzen…What were you saying about my Tsunade?" Oppressed, as he certainly was by a thousand conflicting sensations, none of them pleasant or merciful, in which extreme terror were predominant, he still retained a sufficient presence of mind to avoid worrying to slight nervousness his elder companion. His ears caught a noise of unknown origin, a strange crackling sound that did not leave his notice, such a nuisance merely aggravating his already unstable state.

"Your daughter…" Upon that thought, he corrected himself and resumed. "The heiress has improved surprisingly during the past days of her training. Her aim with the arrow is now almost perfect and she wields the sword as if it was a part of her. I am well aware you do not wish to engage her in fighting, but she is shamefully gifted. Could your Majesty allow her to train more, perhaps?" The Royal Master of Martial Arts, Lord Hiruzen Sarutobi was by no means certain that the King had noticed the sounds in his question; although, assuredly, a strange alteration had definitely taken place in his demeanor during the short elapse of time the instructor spoke.

"No. She must not. She is to become a queen, nothing more. Madara shall take care of the duties of a ruler. She must focus on the well-being of her family and tend her chores as a wife and mother. She has to stay out of things… It is…It is too much already. Too much danger." Hashirama's head had dropped upon his breast after he uttered the last syllable of his blinded idealism, yet Hiruzen knew that he did not exerted such actions for the sake of sleeping, as he had a wide and rigid opening of the eye as the elder caught a glance of it in profile.

"Is everything all right, Your Majesty?" The motion of his body, too, was at variance with this idea of mindlessness, whereas he rocked from side to side with a gentle yet constant sway. Having rapidly taken notice of all this, he resumed to speaking. "She should be out and learn about the world. She will not have the right mind for making decisions-…"

"She shall never make decisions!" Hashirama was again very much alarmed by a repetition of a loud crackling noise which terrified him while he was struggling to keep his attention at Hiruzen's words. He thought long upon the subject yet at the end he was unable to form any satisfactory conclusion.

"Your Majes-…" No sooner had these syllables passed on the elder's lips, than the King has sprung from the sofa with a sudden gasp. Before he could have concluded the ruler completely mad, he too became aware of a distinct, hollow, metallic, and clangorous, yet apparently muffled reverberation from the outside.

"What is the meaning of all this?!" The King roared like thunder as he rushed through his chamber, paying no attention to the current subject into which he was to delve himself on a more profound level.

The endeavors of the Darkness to arouse the King from the condition of abnormal gloom, -into which he had fallen by their wicked spell-, were underestimated by great measure by those having no idea of the true power of evil.

The scene was bloodcurdling for those even with the strongest stomach. The agency of Lucifer presented itself by the two faithful servants Orochimaru and Madara who were eager to demonstrate their slyness. In the center of the Royal garden they stood, and stood many others, horrified and awe-stricken by the accusations of the demons.

"Hashirama! My friend, my brother here you are at last!" Madara shouted with eerie madness around him, and no flaw in his false tone.

There came in abrupt motion a devastating stroke of lightning, which shook the whole village in fear. The increasing thunder gathered with ever-advancing force and the clouds darkened in apocalyptic visions.

"What is going on?!" Hashirama yelled in ungovernable fear, whereas his eyes beheld the beloved child of his bloodline; Tsunade stood a few steps away from the raven-crowned demon whose katana was aimed at the throat of the priest.

Her eyes trembled with falling tears and phobic anguish seized upon her soul, rendering her motionless.

The priest was too inactive, as he knew well one single motion and he would be very well dead.

"This man, this man is the cause of all suffering!" Madara resumed with infallible act of his trickery. "He forged your sacred signature and stole the gold of the Kingdom to give it to your samurai, to kill our dearest brother, Tobirama! The one even my heart misses! We have a proof! Lord Shikaku found the forged documents in his shrine!"

The wild-armed titan trees gnarled forcefully and the howling wind chilled the body of those outside. Tsunade was shivering with the mangling ice of the tempest, her dress tightly pulled around her body while the malicious words of the General rolled freely like the drops of the commencing rain. She could not fathom the depths of evil, she could not fathom how far they were willing to go to defeat them. It was all her fault, she blamed no one but herself. Upon that impulse and before the King could have touched upon the subject in a better light, she rushed between the blade of Madara's sword and Ryoushun, to everyone's greatest surprise. "No, you cannot kill him!"

Jiraiya, as he too witnessed the appalling doom of his father, shivered and brooded on the brain-blasting shadow of a Reaper that erected right behind Ryoushun and so he knew Death has truly arrived and was ready to take someone with it. He ventured to stop his cherished gem of an heiress, yet he knew he could not approach the scene any closer. He only prayed none of them would be harmed, because his mother would be devastated and if he lost Tsunade, unspeakable pain would seize his soul.

"Please, King, please do not let Madara fool you! He is a liar! He is a traitor!" Tsunade screamed from her lungs yet she was barely audible amidst the summoned thunder of the Uchiha. The General knew how to cloak his sin and every tool he had in his possession; Nature was in his favor as Nature has long been under his governance by the aid of his Goddess. Tsunade was not heard, as she was no one.

The priest, all of a sudden, before Fate could kiss his forehead, tightened his fists around the bewitched spear he always carried minutely with him, and directed it against the ground three times in magical invocation. His mouth opened only to mutter chants of unholy beseeching. Madara's eyes thus widened in sheer dread, when the young woman's eyes in front of him lit up in menacing shades of golden.

"The dragon!" His voice trembled upon realization of the priest's doing. On account of secrecy, he swiftly grabbed the heiress's arm and threw her against the floor before the spell furthered too far, from which no God could have brought them back in one piece.

"Tsunade!" Hashirama yelled and betook towards the victim, while Madara wasted no more time and impaled Ryoushun with remorse of no amount in his soul. In fact, he felt rather relieved once the chant ceased and instead of dangerous words it was blood pouring in torrents from his throat.

The priest fell upon the ground in an utterly helpless condition of dying. He felt that his powers of body and mind were fast leaving him, -in a word-, that he was now perishing, and perishing with satisfaction as he was to leave the reminder of his importance in the world, whilst he cursed those cursing him. His brain swam as he grew at last deadly sick from the blood that was slowly filling his lungs. His vision too failed, even the red glaring eyeballs of Madara above him grew but very dim. Making a last strong effort, Ryoushun at length breathed a faint ejaculation to God Izanagi, and resigned himself to die.

"Papa!" No words can give any adequate idea of the extreme, the absolute horror and convulsion, with which Jiraiya was too seized, possessed, and completely overwhelmed. His knees tottered beneath him as he staggered towards the corpse, his teeth clopped and his skin flushed with bumps of shock. How pitiable the sight was, nobody could fully fathom, for nobody ever mentioned the soul-upheaving occurrences of that evening anymore.

Hashirama crouched beside his invalid and pulled Tsunade into his arms. She sobbed and entreated, growled in pain and agony while her arms tightened around his neck as if a child seeking comfort in her father's embrace. Her eyes still glowed with the divine shades of the beast possessing her, yet her body was weak and weary and her mind benumbed with the horrors of the moment.

The king's hands brushed her back soothingly and the vivid shuddering of her frame rapidly melted into a slow, fatigued rocking. He could console her like no one other, as he was a father, he always loved her such way. Carefully, after a few moments he lifted her up into his arms without averting his eyes away from her. She became quite ill, and her frame trembled with exhaustion. He would carry her to her room, for she was his utmost concern, his only, for the matter of fact.

"Hashirama-…" Madara began but presently he was interrupted.

"Clean up your mess and get out of my sight. You have no idea what you have done."

Oh, but he did. If only the King could have suspected the cheat, if only he could have been more stable in mind, surely he would have stopped it all. But he was not stable. The King was mad, for mad he was slowly driven. Madara restrained himself from further words and with a gloat upon the corpse, he cleaned his blade with a leisure motion. Everything went by the plans. He batted a rapid glance at Orochimaru who by then hid amidst the trees with a smirk of triumph. The Court believed them, in fact anyone did who witnessed the scene.

 _ **After several hours...**_

It is almost needless to say, that, upon coming to a proper sense of the situation, she emerged from the terror, which had absorbed every faculty of her shaken soul, and sprang out of the futon with struggle for air.

Her attention was, in the first place, wholly directed to the surroundings around her, seeking faces, listing noises but there was nothing. Complete quietness governed the chamber, merely the erratic pounding of her heart disturbing the air of body, still weary, had an unknown sensation of pain. The nails of her slim fingers trembled with blunt sensitivity, her perfectly moulded jaw felt as if it tightened and the faultless pale gums in her mouth grew numb as if more teeth were to come out. She began to weep in fright as the thought of a beast aroused in the back of her mind.

Her room became pandemonium the longer she stayed there, neglected, forgotten, while she reckoned with no scientific knowledge of abnormal psychology the unholy words of the priest, the hellish howl that still rang in her ears as if she was to voice it. She rose from the ground and with her tattered royal vestiture she fled to seek relief before she was consumed by insanity.

In truth, for her, Konoha was a dream-like and spirit-soothing place, that venerable small town. As she walked down the road after fleeing from the Palace, in fancy, she felt the refreshing chilliness of its deeply shadowed corners, inhaled the sweet fragrance of its thousand shrubberies and flowers, and thrilled anew with indefinable delight, at the deep hollow revelry of the courtesan house that broke upon the stillness of the dusky atmosphere. There was a suspicion of aurora in the sky as she approached the house, her heart growing uneasy for reasons she could not yet fathom. Her spirit warned her before the mind could, as she entered the place of deviltry.

The room from which the carousel originated lay on the second floor of the house. It combined the qualities of decent cleanliness and endurable furnishings, the walls bearing no particular aspect while the tatami was now and then missing. Seats there were none while small tables invited the people to drinking. She gazed long and searchingly at the figures on the floor, her eyes seeking the sight of one particular samurai. Numbers of men, or things, which had been men, sat on the tatami ground with eyes besprinkled in great amount of alcohol and raved with unmitigated vigor. Swinish words and looks were exchanged and with zeal, they shouted their fancy to the lowly acrobat and bawdy joker touching upon subjects of the Royal Court.

"And now, the champion, having escaped from the terrible fury of the dragon, bethinking himself of the Great Sword, and of the breaking up of the enchantment which was upon him, removed the carcass from out of the way before him, and approached valorously over the silver pavement of the castle the wondrous bosom of delight!"

Her eyes caught notice to the character of General Madara who was being extremely ridiculed; the acrobat wore garments similar to the dark lord's while his face was overly painted, especially around the eyes like two balls of Sharingan. Tsunade's soft lips tugged upwards to a smile as she for a moment forgot the real reason of her presence.

"We want the queen! The queen and Madara!" They exclaimed enthusiastically with enfeebled brain of sake.

"Oh no, not her…" If only she spoke louder, certain it was someone could have heard her demand. The faint glow of smile was rapidly dissipated as the joker furthered and emerged into matters he could not possibly fathom.

"And now, my love," said he with a voice by no means similar to Tsunade's mother's, playing the role of both the queen and the general, the man resumed with luscious giggles, "and now, my love, since we are indissolubly one since I have yielded to your passionate entreaties, I shall perform my portion of our agreement! Ah! Let me see! Let me remember! Yes! Show me, show me all!" The joker continued and ripped the garments over his legs, as if revealing something improper to the eyes of the drunken youth.

In the first instance, the scene occasioned her surprise, in the second, this surprise became elevated into keen astonishment; and this astonishment was so profound, was so extreme, indeed she may very well say that it was horrific. What, in the name of everything hideous, were they doing? What did all this mean? Could she believe her eyes? Could she? It was impossible that human nature could endure this state of intense suffering much longer. Upon recovering from her astonishment, she rushed frantically toward the front of the house as if pursued by some hideous enemy. The expression on her face, a face ghastly enough in death, was beyond description.

She struggled to keep up her own pace for her limbs felt like stones she had to carry. She ran and struggled for air, whilst the rich odor of sweat and alcohol-mingled air suffocated her spirit. When near the front door she felt a touch upon her shoulders that with mild request forced her to halt. She stopped in her flight and turned ever so cautiously. "Kakashi-sama…"

"I am sorry. It was very crowded today, I couldn't get you sooner…I noticed you when you entered."

The sound of his deep, husky voice seemed to arouse all the latent fury in her spirit and forthwith she burst in tears of suffering. "What was that all about?! How dare you joke about my parents? Who was that devil, I will hang him! I will get him beheaded! How dare you make so sick of a joke! Madara is the-…" She cried in a voice coarse with rage, while every syllable she uttered seemed as new fuel to her fury. Before she could have finished venting out, Kakashi's hand covered the way of sounds as he put his palm hurriedly upon her mouth in order to restrain herself from being noticed.

"You have to lower your tone, Tsunade. Not everyone knows who you are and I believe you wish to keep it that way." The samurai's voice was stern but displayed no anger within. In fact, he was rather concerned about the state he found her. "Something is wrong, tell me what it is." He requested kindly and slowly took his hand away.

 _ **Hereon...**_

While he patiently awaited for her to speak, he offered a warm tea in the house's kitchen, where no sound would reach them. The heiress was used to the smoke-blackened atmosphere and so she quietly followed the warrior through the familiar corridor she so many times has taken. The kitchen was always the same, there were to be found a simple wooden legless table in the middle, small antique seats with no comfort, and at one extremity of the room was a low stove for cooking. Kakashi put some water to boil while he wondered how to break the silence of the woman.

"Did something happen today at the Palace? Was it the King?"

"No….Not the King. The King is kind…He is…" She took a deep breath and with timid candor she at last forced herself to speak the true content of her spirit. "I met General Madara today. I accused him with treachery."

Kakashi dropped the kettle, for astonished he truly became for the moment.

"It was your hunch, after all." She sighed as she caught herself fidget with her fingers under the table. "Remember after my father's funeral, when your son was hurt, I asked you to tell me about the things you know…"

"Yes I do." The samurai nodded as he locked his gaze to her while he remained waiting at the stove.

"And you told me some things about the war, and I realized my uncle has almost no one to trust, so he puts all his faith in Madara. Then I knew that nobody could have such desires but him. He wants the throne, so I confronted him….And he…" Her sweet tone resounded in the air that grew heavy with gloom as she fought to finish her sentence.

"He did something, didn't he? Did he hurt you?"

Tsunade noticed the sudden alteration of his features, how puzzled he became to the mere idea of her being hurt. She bit upon her lower lip and shook her head in the negative, for the young woman assumed it was not proper to make him feel any of those feelings. He shan't worry, he shan't be curious. "He killed the priest."

"Ryoushun-sama?!"

"Yes." She replied in the affirmative and so she continued. "He put the blame on him and now the Court is convinced of his sin. My hands are tied and he knows I know the truth. I don't know what to do…I am scared, not because of me, but because I know he is close to destroy us, to…kill Hashirama-san if he needs it."

"We will come up with something, Tsunade, do not worry." The way he spoke somewhat made her believe about the truth of it. He was the Lightning Prince, surely he was gifted.

Tsunade quickly obliterated the terror-stricken thoughts from her heart with the recollection of the priest's demonic chants. She ascribed those ideas to her mere imagination the longer she pondered about it. Yes, it was most certainly the heat of the moment, the horror of her weak spirit that induced such reveries of bodily pain. She was all fine now, was she not?

There was a long pause of silence during both grew lost in speculation. The indissoluble repose of sounds were then instantly disturbed by the tune of the boiling water. "Ah here it is." Kakashi spoke but before he could have taken the kettle off the stove, his hands were presently stopped by two other.

"Don't! Just wait." Tsunade began as she slowly took his hands away and rested them upon her lap. "Close your eyes. I will teach you about how to boil water."

"Isn't that a child's play?" The samurai replied amused as he followed the instructions obediently. The two crouched comfortably in front of the old, age-worn stove as if the scene was the most natural sight to behold.

"Did you close your eyes?" Tsunade lifted one of her eyelids just to make sure he did what he was told. Then, she too locked the deficient lights out and resumed to her narrative. "Have you ever listened to the water? Have you ever watched its changes? When the water starts to boil, it looks like the eyes of shrimp... Then crab eyes, fish eyes, and small marbles float upon the surface… But wait, the water is not boiling yet! Listen to the water bubbling up…At first, it pitter-patters…Then….It taps like the wheels turning….Then horses throbbing stealthily. Then comes the soft, whispering sound of the wind….Soon, even the wind fades. When no sound can be heard….Now the water is ready."

Indeed, there was no sound. The water's fury ceased and it was but the mist to give away its proper state. "Kakashi, hey, wake up." Tsunade's lips curled into a feeble smile as she hurriedly reached to take the heated kettle and pour the burning drops into two cups.

"How…How can you notice such things?" Words were hard to find and the samurai felt mesmerized by the details she presented in front of his eyes. The simple action of making tea became each and every time more cunning, and the warrior was confused since it seemed the world was much more mysterious than it appeared so. What a new way of perception it was, it astonished him.

"If you have nothing to do, you begin to seek the conundrum's of Nature. I am telling you it can be very exciting." She giggled on a heavenly tone and more bewitched he became. "How much water you wish me to pour?" The heiress' large hazel orbs sought the consciousness of the man beside her who seemed to be still enraptured in the moment.

"I have never met anyone like you." His voice was deep enough to be heard, albeit he barely uttered those syllables to the ears to notice.

"Uhh…" Tsunade put down the kettle before she dropped it, when Kakashi's nose brushed hers, for close he truly was all of a sudden. She felt blood rush all over her body, pour in tides to places she never thought possible. Her pale cheeks reddened and the soft fleshes of her mouth parted in desire to speak, but she could not, oh, speech was the last thing she managed to do.

He was close, ever so close, she felt the warmth of his aura, the scent of his skin and of the garments that shrouded his slender yet stout body. The single idea of intimacy filled her with alarm and upon that thought, she thought she could move away, or at least push him further, but she did not. Her slim fingers reached up to his face, and the tip caressed the rough canvas of his visage. He was beautiful for a man, no he was august like the midsummer night. Her hand lingered from his temple, languidly slipped on the aristocratic line of his jaw, and reached adventurously upon his mouth, upon that finely moulded, full, pale mouth of his.

It was but a second and his heavenly lips collided with her own. Her hands reached around his neck as if beseeching to keep her close to him. The kiss lingered, that sinful action of ungovernable passion! It was but the perfect unison of faces, how perfectly the mouths fit together upon touching. She could have sworn she felt electricity wash over her, while her sweet hands anchored in his silver locks and stroked and teased his nerves upon his nape. She had but the slightest of idea of what she was doing, for everything was guided by her instincts, as her common sense was nowhere near to be found.

The samurai growled with pleasure to her tender teasing and furthered his aptness of masculinity. The young woman's parted lips invited his tongue inside while his hands roamed her petite frame in shameless fancy. She gasped and shivered and her small finger grabbed and pulled the curls of his hair, only to excite his untamed nature.

Unmindful of the place and time, it was a sharp clearing of throat that brought them back to reality. Tsunade sprang on her feet with a terror-sticken heart, with heavy gulps and various blinks to force herself out of the half-swooned state. "Hey, 'kashi…" Asuma spoke at last as he waited patiently for his comrade to fix his demeanor. As he stood, he folded his arms over his chest and observed the reason of the samurai's absence with a widening grin over his stark features. "Well, don't I remember you from somewhere?"

"She is….Jiraiya." Kakashi replied presently, wondering how many lies were to be told until it all collapsed. "What is it, Asuma?"

"My old man brought the news the priest is dead. That damn Uchiha killed him in the Palace. Man, I am telling you those people are damn crazy." He shook his head in disbelief while the heiress' change of features riveted his attention. "What's with you Jira-chan?"

"I am not Jira-chan!" Her eyes sharpened to particular design and the samurai in front of him felt his blood curdle in surprise. "You lack manners warrior, to dare talk to me this way!"

Asuma could not help but laugh, oh so hard he laughed he was holding his stomach in profound delight. "My dear, you are the one lecturing me on manners? And what would you be doing clinging to the mouth of a married man?" Amidst chuckles he pulled out a cigar and lit it while his eyes were spoiled in the view of the two standing in utter silence.

Tsunade's orbs were strictly locked onto the ground and her young faultless face burnt with embarrassment, while Kakashi was too shy all of a sudden. "You two are definitely more entertaining than that terrible theatre upstairs, but we should talk, Kakashi." The samurai's features darkened with unvoiced remonstrance of the future.

"You can tell her anything, she is the Senju heiress. She told me already what happened. The General is behind all of this. We need a plan to stop him before he kills our master."

"You do know whose skirt to lift, don't you?" Asuma shook his head with a smirk as at last the three took a seat around the table. Beyond doubt the water was too cold by now, thus the idea of tea was delayed to another occasion.

"The thing is, I believe Iruka is being paid to transfer information about us."

"Are you certain?" Kakashi lifted an eyebrow in piqued curiosity as he listened to the matter with chief interest. "I was paid by Orochimaru, he never once mentioned there would be another one of us used."

"Well, brother, you are presumably out of the game. Also, nobody would hire Guy, and nobody would ask a Sarutobi to betray the Palace."

"You are a Sarutobi? Like The Royal Master of Martial Arts, Lord Hiruzen Sarutobi?!" Tsunade's eyes widened as she listened with keen attention.

The heiress' wildly changing features to perplexing facts was terribly cunning to Asuma, whose lips parted to blow the thick violet smoke of his opiate cigar into the air. "He is my old man." He smiled wickedly.

"He is my sensei!"

"Is he?" He chuckled on a strong, manly voice that rang like brazen lungs of the town clock. "If I was not wooing my dear Kurenai I would be the one on your delicious mouth right now. Isn't she a sweet thing?"

"She is, indeed…" Kakashi ran a hand through his hair as if to conceal his shyness, yet she noticed it easily.

The young woman bit upon her lower lip and caught herself with the same habit of fidgeting her fingers, which she assumed was a soothing action to keep her heart and mind steady, while both harbored wildly.

"If Iruka is a traitor, we have to inform the King." Asuma then resumed and Kakashi followed his thoughts.

"Yes." He nodded in the declarative and added. "Send Guy to spy on him, nobody would believe he is fitting for the role. We wouldn't attract attention. You, Tsunade, do not engage yourself in any more argument with the General, because nobody comes out of it good. We need to figure out the source of his power, because I have a hunch it is not the prowess of the sword but something much more fiendish."

"Can he summon evil creatures?" She asked with a curiousity tinted tone.

"No, the priest could, only. But he is dead, which means I have nothing to hunt down, fortunately." The silver-crowned warrior pondered as his eyes lingered upon her face which he could not stop beholding. He was drawn to her like moth to a flame. "Perhaps, he corrupted the sword. Little we know of how your mother and my father died, and who killed them, but perhaps the same person is behind everything."

"Maybe Madara has been plotting this since forever. So why would he want to do it now?" Asuma finished his cigar upon the last syllable and pulled out another from his pocket with a leisure movement.

"He wants to marry me to gain the throne by right." Tsunade whispered, gaining Kakashi's aghast reply.

"What?! He is twice…What?!"

"Hold your horses brother, you are also rather aged; 25? I would retire." The samurai smirked, for teasing was his expertise.

"I keep refusing, of course. Not because he is old. It is because of everything else. But…But that is not the point!" She shook her head to focus. "The wedding should be in 5 days. He is running out of time. And if my uncle retires, the throne will be bestowed upon me only."

"So the mad man wants a wife and a throne." Asuma nodded in concluding the facts. "Well, I say we figure out what is Iruka up to, and you lay low in your precious chambers. Nobody needs to find you here and start a scandal, especially not with the Hatake."

"…." Tsunade ventured to reply but the samurai was sagacious. Slowly, she nodded in assent. Her heart grew heavy with gloom all of a sudden, yet she could not properly ascribe such feeling to any competent reason. The kiss was on a sudden impulse, surely it meant nothing. "I…I should go…If there is anything…Perhaps through your father we can communicate."

"That is a good idea."

She bowed politely and Asuma replied with a gentle nod, as he was too lazy and troubled to rise from the seat.

As she made haste outside, Kakashi aroused and vacated the chair in order to follow her. "Don't." His friend warned him.

"Just give me a minute." The Lightning Prince neglected the wise remonstrance of his comrade, and after long years of stillness, he listened to the whispers of his heart. "Hey, Tsunade!" Rapid he was to catch up and to his utmost surprise the woman stopped instantly upon her tracks and turned to face him.

"I am sorry, I shouldn't have…" She wished to apologize yet the last roots of remorse were instantly extinguished when she was kissed again. It was but a stroke of the wind, the caress of the primaveral breeze, the way his lips collided with hers. It was too short, too sensual. "Kakashi…"

"I will not let any harm come to you. Madara will not lay a finger on you or on the King."

"Do you promise?" She sought for confirmation in his eyes, in those deep, inky orbs of eternity.

"I promise."


	7. Fire and Ice

_**"Et tu, Brute?" -Shakespeare**_

* * *

The horrible night sounds ceased as dawn at last arrived with violet strokes brushing the illimitable canvas of the sky. The howling power of the frightful tempest ceased and the maddened wind carried away the vanishing echoes of devastated cries. The glorious sun settled with its melancholic splendor upon the sylvan horizon and casted is first light over the mouldering tombs and ruins of Konoha. Nothing could be more picturesque or solitary than the arrival of dawn. Solemn tones of the ancient church announced the fifth hour of the day. All was still as the grave, not a sound interrupted the magic of the peaceful repose.

Amidst the ominous calm, there was a stirred consciousness, a quiet beating of the heart, a mind of devastating ennui. The silver-crowned samurai sometimes dreamed better when awake, and sometimes wished not to dream at all, since reveries were the source of an embittered spirit, and spirit he had very bitter already.

His stark eyes of eternity leisurely rested upon the simple sight of the porcelain mug within which tea cooled down slowly as time wore along. In long fingers the hot object was entrapped, as if wishing to transfer the sweet warmth within the body. It was a day of remarkable chilliness as he drew a deep sigh at last, and lifted the mug to his lips and the mild liquid rushed down his throat, and forthwith filled him with a kind of warmness he thought he has long forgotten. Each moment he sat there, -contemplating, nursing feelings he was not supposed to even think about,- seemed to swell into an hour of agony.

Never once he found himself in a situation as this was, never once he desired the touch of someone apart from his wife, never once in his life he breathed other's name with such ardor as the heiress' name rolled on his tongue upon calling her into his consciousness. Another deep, desperate sigh escaped from the cradle of his lungs when a familiar noise came upon the ears.

"I was looking for you…"

Kakashi's gaze languidly turned to the source of the sweetly ringing voice and caught the faint glimpse of Rin who stood in the doorway, with a visage besprinkled in kind concern. "I am sorry." He apologized heartily, with eyes resting upon her as slowly she crouched beside him and folded her arms around the samurai.

"You should talk to me. You can trust me. You barely sleep, Kakashi, it is not good." Her slim fingers ran across his thick silken crown while her chocolate-brown eyes roamed his faultless and fatigued features. He looked rather unkempt in aspect with his hair ruffled, body barely vested yet she could not stop to ponder how handsome it made him appear.

"Is Shuya awake? He wanted to train before the academy." The samurai was eager to obviate the reasons of his troubled soul as he changed the subject without the slightest ascension of color visiting his face. In fact, he very much appeared cold as marble, yet his gaze never left his wife's.

"I did not awake him…I do not want him to train with you…" She looked away since she could not bear to face him upon this matter. There were certain subjects upon which she wished not to touch, yet it seemed today would be no different from the recent ones.

Strokes of tension rose around the kitchen as the two sat in complete silence for a short elapse of time before courage she gathered enough to speak. "Shuya is talented in almost everything. He certainly got it from you, and that is why he should do something else. Why are you so passionate about turning him into a ruthless murderer?"

"Is that so…? That is how you see me, a ruthless murderer?" Albeit the question was heart stirring, Kakashi spoke with astonishing standoffishness, leaving no trace of emotion in his voice.

"Kakashi, listen…I shouldn't have said that…" Aware she grew suddenly of the harsh words that slipped past her lips and she knew she hurt him. Rin leaned away only to place her warm palms upon his cold cheeks and she resumed with a voice of such kindness. "It would be good if he had a nice job and could be there for his family and friends. If you want him to fight, he could be like…Iruka! Only participating when necessary and being around those he loves."

As he listened, a faint smile crossed his finely sculpted lips to her utmost confusion, whereas her intention was nowhere to be funny. Gently, he took her hands away and broke the pause of peace, as a fool he was most certainly not, as it was easy to read the true nature of her voiced thoughts. "You asked me to let Shuya decide what he wants. He has time to change his mind, and I would never force him to do something into which he cannot put his heart. You are the one keep putting obstacles in front of him to give up. Your main concern is not him being forced into the Code of Bushidou, it is him becoming me. I am your problem."

Truth was not something easy to hear, and even less pleasant to realize. Rin's heart pounded with ungovernable speed while there was a slight ascension of crimson color on her face, she blushed deeply into his words. Her gaze rested on her hands as she found herself uneasy, uncomfortable, and unhappy.

"Just tell me something, Rin." Kakashi's eyes turned to her to observe the rapid change upon her sweet features. "Who gave you a roof when your father banished you because you confessed your feelings for that Uchiha, Obito? Who comforted you when that man was lost in battle? Who gave you food, and bed? Who bought you all the clothes you never wear, all the jewels you keep in a box, which you never open? I did not marry you because you asked me, in order to restore the dignity of your name, I did it because I loved you. What do you want from me Rin? I have already given up everything I could, to make you happier, but I cannot give up more."

His candor, and the reserved, demure tone with what he spoke drew tears from her large, deep eyes. An indissoluble gloom has descended upon them and seized on her spirit mercilessly while she speechlessly listened to her husband's painful words. They were not painful for they were cruel; they cut deep for they were true.

Kakashi carefully wiped away the drops of sorrow from her face and she trembled when his lips planted a loving peck upon her forehead, as if she deserved it.

"Papa!" The child's lively voice rapidly dissipated the melancholy of the room and gave space to cheerfulness. "Papa I am ready!" Shuya screamed with all his vigor and enthusiasm as his small arms folded around his father's neck during which he climbed on the samurai's back.

"Shuya, what did I teach you? Get off, my boy and give a kiss to your mother. You do not leave her without it."

 _'_ _Since you can never know if you ever return…'_ Sakumo's words rang in his ears but remained unvoiced; his son was young and Kakashi was not taking him to battle, not yet at least. Nonetheless, the wisdom could have not been truer.

The child did as he was told and without complaint he got back on his feet and threw himself into the warm, loving arms of his mother. Rin filled his soft cheeks with dozens of kisses, making the boy squeal and chuckle. When there was no light outside, he would always brighten even the gloomiest day and banish the brooding pain from the soul. Kakashi rose from the ground and reached his hand for Shuya's who took it with a gentle squeeze. Amidst several waves to Rin, the two vanished from the house and betook towards the village.

 _ **Later that day...**_

The full orb of the slowly declining sun delighted and astounded the room into which its long rays were casted. In the corner of the house appeared, in direct family communion, the properties of the kitchen. Freshly cut vegetables stood peacefully upon the counter and there lay also an ovenful of meat and fruits while the kettle's laughter reverberated amidst the four walls.

"Little man trains hard, doesn't he?" Asuma's eyes followed his friend from the kitchen while he recruited strength to finish the late lunch. He has previously engaged himself with a larger portion than his stomach wished to welcome. "Just put him on the couch." He added with a leisure manner and with undertone to preserve the stillness that has pervaded them.

The living room possessed an army of long, thick curtains together with a couch of green velvet, which gave the chamber an air at once classic and comfortable. "Thank you." Kakashi replied presently, while he reached for a light, muslin cover and carefully shrouded his son who gradually fell asleep in his arms after picked up from the academy.

That afternoon his wife became too dedicated to some affairs at home, which the samurai could not possibly imagine, -and if he did he would most certainly not half like it-, and thus he ascribed her involuntariness to some sort of need for space. However, space she had indeed, enough to share it with someone else.

The samurai closed the sliding doors and returned beside his friend, to eat as well at last. He could not deny the fact that he was starving and his hunger was given voice with loud rumblings of his stomach. However, Shuya came first, thus he made sure his child would be pleased and happy, before he decided upon taking care of himself.

"He is. He is first in his class. And this morning he managed to cut my arm. You should have seen it, he was fast and agile." With bulging hauteur he exalted his son, the elder's eyes glowing with affection every time he could mention Shuya's name in a conversation. "He is my pride, Asuma. My boy is my everything."

"I cannot wait to beat that kid with my own." The raven-crowned comrade's face lit up with excitement as he uttered those words, and added after a bite of the ramen in front of him. "If only Kurenai was willing to help me out there…"

Kakashi laughed quietly as he did not wish to awake his sleeping offspring. "She is giving you a hard time, isn't she?"

"She is doing it on purpose. She likes me in this state of despair." Asuma mused the longer he wondered about her and upon sudden impulse of curiosity, he indiscreetly voiced his untamed theories about a similar matter.

"And you, my friend… How are you managing with the stir of want? Did you see what is under those costly garments? I wonder if she is still untou-…" In his words, there was no subtlety to draw him out, as the caramel-skinned warrior enjoyed the sight of a petrified friend, especially if it was Kakashi who always remained stern and rigid in demeanor.

His words aggravated Kakashi's turbulent mind and equally desperate spirit. The saturnine features of the samurai reddened in vivid shades of crimson while the small portion of the meal stuck in his throat. Whereupon, he abruptly aroused from the ground and desperately staggered towards the counter to possess a glass of cold water, before he choked in grave perplexity and ludicrous fumbling. Kakashi did not wish to enlarge his knowledge in this regard, albeit it seemed there was no way to obviate the sensitive matter. "You and your questions, Sarutobi…"

"What questions?" Hiruzen stepped in the chamber fortuitously. His generally dismal features were besprinkled in conspicuous gaiety as he mused towards the two and seated himself at the oak table to join the late meal.

"You were supposed to be here by midday, father." Curiosity shaped Asuma's eyebrows while he served a bowl of warm ramen to the elder. "What delayed you so much?"

"The heiress' request upon teaching her." The lord began while he lifted the chopsticks to his lips in a casual motion. "She is a very stubborn creature, I must say."

"Why does she want to know swordsmanship?" Kakashi's curiosity was piqued as Tsunade came into subject, such information impelling him to gain more insight about the matter.

"She wants to defeat Madara." Came a bloodcurdling reply uttered ever so casually as if it was indeed but impossible.

"She could never do that. She is half the size of that man." Asuma laughed overtly, as if a joke has been told.

"My son, you never learn do you?" The elder samurai shook his head in disappointment. With the same particular simplicity, he leaned away from the large bowl and advanced his fingers upon the garment of his vestiture. With one motion, he pulled away the shirt, due to the singular reason of proving Asuma's self-conceit.

Two pair of eyes stared at him in sheer astonishment, as the marks upon the elder's chest were of no childish act. There was but no way to fathom the sight in front of them, thus, to aid better comprehend the heiress' devotion, Hiruzen began. At length, he talked minutely of her in a strangely poetic fashion making them see with terrible vividness the young woman's inner struggle and all her wild need of practice to become a warrior.

Kakashi thought the most sensible conclusion about the matter as slowly his gaze traveled back to his own portion of food, the sudden realization of it becoming cold already. "This is unbelievable."

"You two, listen to me very carefully." Hiruzen's face turned severe all of a sudden, as he beckoned them to lean closer, as he would only once say what he had to say. "We are going to help her defeat the General. One way or another. The priest's kid, I will make sure he learns everything he needs to become powerful as Ryoushun was. And as for the heiress,…"

There was a knock on the door.

"As for Tsunade? What? What?!" Kakashi's blood rapidly rushed within his veins as the most significant information awaited. His eyes widened in excited anticipation, yet it was too late. They were interrupted.

"I came as you asked and did what you told me to…" Guy stepped in amidst deep bows and heavy apologizes. "I followed Iruka today," he began, with voice lowered and seated himself at the table." I skipped off across the orchard to the rise beyond, and the floor of the forest was very mossy and mysterious, and there were rocks that rose vaguely here and there in the dim light and…"

"Get to the point, for hell's sake."Asuma rolled his eyes as he was excited afresh with the presence of his comrade. The orders were strict and clear once given; Guy had to find out the true intentions of the member of the samurai, whether the wickedness of evil led him or there was little to blame on him apart from innocence. That, he was most certainly not and Guy was nonetheless enthusiastic upon sharing the shocking news.

"Well, you were right." He nodded to everyone's bafflement. "Iruka gives information away about us, about our plans, strategies, even about personal things such as Lord Hiruzen's schedule and Kakashi's private life. He is very thorough, though. I saw him at your house, he was there for hours."

Upon that news, he turned to face the silver-crowned samurai. "Rin-chan must really confide in him if he is allowed in the bedroom for private discussion. Or maybe he knew I was following him…Anyway, he met that snake person later today, after midday, and it seems Iruka receives black chakra to become stronger."

"Black chakra…" Hiruzen's sharp eyes narrowed upon thinking while he pulled out a cigar from his back pocket. Asuma's eyes lit up and so the elder had no choice but to share the package with his son. The room suddenly grew smoke-blackened to Kakashi's utmost discomfort. "If he gets that kind of energy to gain power, it means Madara has corrupted his sword and he is sharing it with those he wants around him."

"He needs a source of energy…" Kakashi added as he pondered, the portentous thoughts seizing his spirit. There were not many people at the Court who could possibly possess a demon within, the number was too small and very unfitting to his liking. "It can be one person, I am afraid… It makes sense… We should have seen this much sooner." He exhaled with a long deep sigh while his gaze changed in a prolonged blink.

"You think what I think?" The young Sarutobi sighed since his comrade seemed certain as the grave. There was an ominous pause between the four during which the howling of the wind could have been heard from the outside. Hitherto calm, now it was the thick mist of uneasiness that descended upon them. The news was of no positive truth, and its content was of the most startling nature. "If it is so, you know what you have to do. You have to kill, Kakashi. You are the only one who can destroy the demon."

There could be no doubt, notwithstanding the slightest error about the ruthlessness of the facts since they were indeed unwholesome. "I know…But…I cannot kill our master. He is the King and we vowed to save his life. But there is no other explanation about his insanity plagued mind. Madara must be doing this to him, feeding on him and driving him into the abyss of mental darkness in order to weaken him, as there are no more powerful warriors in this world than the Senju. King Hashirama is the dragon, the one they were supposed to give back to the Lord 15 years ago."

"I agree." Asuma nodded in the declarative upon a finely modulated tone, while the elder remained quiet with long puffs upon his cigar.

The perpetual dusk of the day came upon them by the time they finished talking, and the decision was made. Guy must find the right moment to bring Iruka to confession, while Kakashi must see the King and settle things as soon as possible. Time was not on their side and the samurai knew it.

"We should-…"

"Papa, Papa!"

Before things could have been uttered, as today seemed to be frequent in interruption, the silver-haired child made haste from the peaceful repose upon the couch and within his small hands he carried the reason of his profound puzzlement. "Papa, your sword is glowing!"

The occasional huskiness of Hiruzen's tone was heard no more and a tremulous quaver, as if of extreme terror, suddenly characterized his utterance. "It cannot be…" Upon those syllables, he dropped the cigar he was so eager to finish, and the chamber grew cold with supreme horror.

"Look out…It is true…The dragon…It has been awakened."

On the streets the impetuous fury of the evening tempest nearly lifted the people from their feet as they staggered onwards to the closest corners and houses. It was indeed, a tempestuous and sternly dangerous night, and one wildly singular in its terror and its beauty. A whirlwind collected its force in from the vicinity, the Palace as there were frequent and violent alterations in the direction of the wind. Kakashi hurried down the stairs and rushed upon the streets, the thick gray clouds hanging ever so low as they pressed against the turrets of the houses.

How would he explain a second murder to the heiress? What could be done, to avoid the tragedy? He forced his consciousness to revert to its original state from the frantic pounding of hopelessness while the distance diminished between him and his victim. Was she hurt? Was she safe? Could she get away from the frightful taste of the demoniac pandemonium?

The samurai's first way led through the royal roofing and down to the garden when dead silence conquered the atmosphere. The scene aggravated his already agitated spirit, for the stillness of the world was by no means a sign of fortune. Something has happened. Something unexpected and nonetheless horrible.

"Tsunade..." An increasing and unexplained atmosphere of grave panic seemed to rise around the Palace. The whole Court had a musty, metallic odour but the smell intensified the closer he reached to her chamber.

Caution is the first care of those accustomed to face occasional death, and so with caution he proceeded to the two large sliding doors of the entrance.

"Stop!" Jiraiya threw his arms open as he abruptly presented himself in front of him like an ancient Grecian pillar, in order to keep the samurai away from the aperture. "You can't do this, I won't let you!"

"Jiraiya, what are you talking about? Are you both safe? King Hashirama, the dragon…"

"It's not the king…It's Tsunade." He gazed down as he spoke resignedly and upon recruited courage he shot his eyes back at the tall warrior. "We were training…She touched Tobirama-sama's sword, and everything went wrong… We didn't know it would happen."

"The swords were blessed with the power of the dragon, which they split into four parts. Half remained within the demon and the other half was shared among the Senju brothers and Madara. You should have known about this, you should have known more than any of us…"

"My father kept secrets just like the King, Kakashi-sama. Please…You cannot hurt her. Only over my dead body." He pleaded with the eagerness of a passionate soul, as fierce he was to keep his beloved alive.

"Jiraiya…There is no other way."

"No, listen! You are all she talks about! How can you have the heart to kill someone who cherishes you? How can you look into her eyes and take her life away just because she has some…problems?!" The young one's features were shrouded in gloomy fury as he spat the words with an erratic heart.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, whereas he could not quite fathom the way Kakashi's mind worked. He had no heart, had he? All he had was rules and demands to which he lived up expertly.

"Give her a chance…She became quiet…Maybe she found a way…Please..Help her. Killing her is not the way to redemption." In a short elapse of time, Kakashi became convinced of the young man's absolute sincerity and of the truth with which he struggled to phrase, considering he spoke of his heart's content in a manner none could mistake.

The samurai slipped his blade back into its scabbard, the bright blue glow faded from sight. He drew a sigh of surrender and nodded. "All right."

The aperture was stark black with darkness almost material. That tenebrousness was a positive quality, as it obscured such parts of the inner walls that were supposed to be revealed and actually burst forth like smoke from imprisonment. The odor arising from the newly opened depths was intolerable, and at length the quick-eared Jiraiya believed he heard a nasty, hollow sound at one extremity of the chamber. They both listened, and both were listening still when a shadow lumbered across the center. Actually, the horrified pause of the men was of comparatively brief duration before Kakashi took a step inside from the porch.

Duty came first, and although he promised not to harm her, the heart's reason rebelled at the flimsy logic to which his mind was entitled. The mere idea of hurting her gnawed his inmost soul, while his gentle grip trembled around the hilt of his weapon. Without any severe inspection, it was easy to perceive that the room was in utter turmoil; Hell would enflame with a holocaust of ecstasy and freedom if it saw the destruction of the once minutely contrived place.

"Jiraiya, where are the other people?" Cautiously he whispered as he glanced back at the young man behind him who was driven ahead by curiosity, yet was rapidly requested back upon the porch, as Kakashi knew the hellish image was not for him to behold.

"The King and the General left due to Royal matters with Sunagakure. They are not expected to be back until late night…There are still a few hours, I believe." He whispered while his eyes inspected the scene yet, whereas it dark was indeed, his curiosity proved of no use.

"Good." The samurai spoke and closed the door behind himself, at last and scanned the room in detail.

There was a kind of dark, thick trail led from the door to one extremity of the chamber, and thence to the desk on the right, where a terrible little pool had accumulated with the rich stench of metal. Then, as his eyes carefully followed, the trail led to the velvet couch and ended unutterably. What was, or had been, on the couch he could not and dared not imagine.

"Tsunade… You must have surely heard us outside… I am not going to hurt you. Just show yourself…"

There was no sound within save a nameless sort of slow, thick dripping that originated from the darkest part of the room, a neglected corner of thick gloom. It rapidly came to his ears and with ever so reserved footfalls he took a few steps in its direction.

"Don't. Stay away. Stay there." She whispered in a tone whose lifeless, rattling hollowness surpassed the most vivid description.

Kakashi stopped before he betook again; there was a rapid sense of hesitation upon hearing the sound of death. She was not herself, no; her voice could never compare to such abnormality.

"Tsunade, I need to know if there is anything to do. You cannot stay…"

"A dragon?" She shrieked while the dripping of blood like fiendish narcotic benumbed his senses, halting him. He was approaching, slowly, ever so slowly but he advanced with each step towards her. There was no escape, she was cornered. She had to show herself.

"Are you hurt, Tsuna? Just let me see." His soul grew worried with depth he did not imagine possible; the trail of crimson must have come from her, she was seriously injured was she not?

"I tried…I tried to get it out." It was all she said as she at last stepped into his sight. Her aspect and voice became utterly frightful, and her presence almost unbearable to human eyes to behold.

Her body was dabbled in blood that shamelessly trickled from her stomach upon which the skin was gruesomely pierced, as if ripped apart by demonic claws.

Kakashi's eyes rapidly skipped to her hands to affirm the soul-upheaving suspicion; her arms were reinforced by armored scales of bones, making the blazing-red skin of the dragon impenetrable, from which long sharp claws extended.

"I tried to get it out…" She repeated as she took a step closer, whereas her fear was greater than her pride. Her golden eyes of supernatural glowed under the dim light of the pale moon as its hideous rays lingered past the heavy curtains.

"You cannot get it out like this, Tsuna…" Upon a reckless impulse of terrifying worry, he pulled the malformed human into his arms and shut his eyes tight during a brief elapse of time, only to cease the erratic pounding of his heart; he needed to be in control, he needed to help her. If any, perhaps she could calm down and the transformation to her original self would be gradually complete.

Gently, he reached for her tear stained face and lifted it up to meet her gaze. Her lips, as they parted to utter a single syllable revealed the sharp canines that lined up in deadly order. Like dozens of tiny lethal blades, they erected proudly, as if yearning to sink into his throat; upon that idea he took a deep breath and drove himself to speech. "Tsuna…Tsunade listen to me. I am going to stitch you up with the least pain possible. All right? But you have to promise me to keep calm. You need to keep the dragon peaceful, okay?"

She nodded wearily a few times when more tears flooded her eyes. Her consciousness eclipsed in a half-swoon and her legs grew weak to hold her any longer. Her body wasted away and she dropped into a shallow state of dreamlessness and fell into the arms of the samurai. "Hey, Tsunade… Come on, stay awake." Slowly he descended on the ground with the beast in his arms, his eyes observing her fatigued features. Her angelic faultlessness mingled with the horrifying blasphemy of animalistic character, yet he found no flaw in her.

He pulled her closer to him, as if such actions were possible, the young heiress resting in his arm with a stillness of death. With his free hand he reached upon her visage, and his fingers followed graciously the contour of her portraiture. There was a skin of unnatural design here and there, its touch cold and rigid, the perfect paradox of her soft, honey-tanned skin.

In that moment, it struck him; the world did not see that good and evil and beauty and ugliness were only ornamental fruits of the perspective, and that their sole value lay in their linkage to what chance made the forefathers believed and felt, and that finer details were different to every race and culture.

She was beautiful to him, while she was ugly, and evil. She was beautiful to him and so he leaned to her lips and planted the proof of confiding affection upon the raw, wide fleshes of demonic fashion. "Tsuna…Answer me, please." His eyes were riveted upon the slowly moving frame of her existence, and amidst her long lashes, he at last caught the glimpse of the bright golden eyes.

"Kakashi..Kill me if you must… Please… I do not want to harm anyone… I most certainly not wish to cause you any pain…Please, kill me. It is okay… I forgive you." She caressed his face ever so gently as the perfect lines of his face were lit by the pale moonlit sky.

His inky gaze beamed in the light cast upon the two as the whispers in his mind were calling him back into the long forgotten years, and with the mingled wills of all his fathers were pulling him toward his ancestral deeds. He was supposed to kill her, to offer her the purest redemption, the death by his blade. Slowly, his hand lowered and the samurai caught himself reaching for the object of divine salvation.

Upon his tensed fingers that curled strictly and rigidly, he felt the touch of the young woman as she reached for him, herself scared of her own actions for she knew doom awaited. She trembled like a leaf as she rested in his half embrace yet she spoke not. Her eyes languidly rose up to his face once more as she gently guided his free hand towards the scabbard on his waist.

He knew the purpose of her unvoiced entreaties, the demon within her offering the only way of peace. "Tsuna-…" He began in the brooding fire of despair within his soul but she did not let him finish.

"Do it, Kakashi…It is all right." She was stubborn, even in death. Her unholy eyes of bright golden leered into his stark expression and bathed in the sight of eternity.

"Jiraiya!" The silver-crowned warrior shouted while his hand threw the weapon to the farthest corner of the room, where even she could not reach.

The doors were thrown open and the young man awaited with the wildest nervousness beating in his heart. "Yes, yes, how is she? What do you need?" He stuttered as he took a few steps forward, his curiosity illimitable like the vast blue sky. He had to know what happened to his Tsunade.

"Can you get me fresh cold water, needle, thread, sake and cloths? Right now, if possible."

"Yes, yes…Is that all her…"

"Yes, it's hers. Unless you want to help me stitch an open wound I suggest you get me what I need and keep the door locked until I finish."

The singular idea of more blood and raw open flesh turned and dismayed his stomach, thus instead of a possible vertigo seizing him, he applied himself diligently to the task of getting whatever was required.

"Just a minute, Tsunade…Everything will be all right. Could you uncloak me, please?"

"Yes…" She whispered in undertone, as loud syllabification of beastly melody would have only puzzled them both, and languidly reached up to his neck to undo the bronze clasp upon it.

"Thank you…" Said he and pulled the long garment off his back, only to be able and place it underneath her. With careful motions, he laid her upon the softened ground to gain a more proper look at her injuries.

"How many times have you done this?" She was curious while she hoped the act of talk could keep her mind busy from the turbulent agony in her spirit. Her exotic eyes canvassed his stern features that gradually melted into pure and hearty distress. She has really harmed herself, has she not?

"Oh, plenty of times. I could not count it. On the battlefield, medical aid is very rare. We do everything by ourselves." Presently he replied and rapidly offered a tender-hearted smile to the heiress, before he frightened her any further. The air was full of melancholy within which the sound of her ragged breath exhibited the advance of death. His heart grew heavier from worry, as the spark of vitality within her eyes was slowly extinguished by the elapsing time. "Stay with me, Tsunade."

From the infinite gulf of darkness reigning outside, the character of the young priest emerged whom, upon throwing the doors open, rushed inside with all his main and might, his arms busy with the tools requested from him. "I got everything, I think." After a second of catching his breath, he placed everything upon the ground.

Since Jiraiya was well aware of his abilities upon handling gruesomeness, he did not choose to commit himself on the matter any further. Albeit, he yearned to stay by her side, he knew he would be the first to swoon. "Hey Tsunade, I will be outside…"

"Jiraiya…" Upon forgetting the hollow melody of her voice, she called after him in worry to ask about his physical state, -whether she has hurt him or not-, but instantly regretted even the mere idea of it when the demoniac sound reverberated through the atmosphere, and shook the young man in a sudden chill running down his spine. Hastily she pursed her lips together, wishing no more utterance escape through.

Albeit the woman clearly suffered, Jiraiya's spirit was consumed with even more despair, since he was too weak to stay by her side, as he panicked too much to comfort her. All he could think was losing her and the mere idea of having to live this world without her simply drove him even more frantic. Carefully he closed the door behind himself, and sat upon the porch with a long, deep sigh drawn from his lungs.

"He will be fine, Tsuna. Don't worry." Kakashi replied while he reached for the sake and leisurely opened the bottle.

"I scared him…" She whispered while her eyes followed his actions. She grew confused upon seeing him take an abundant gulp from the mesmerizing liquid. "You want to stitch me drunk?"

"I don't get drunk that easily. Years of practice." Kakashi offered a coy smirk only to dissipate the gloom and fear from her eyes. He handed her the bottle with the same motion and the heiress did not hesitate upon following his recklessness. Also, it was vital to loosen her tensed frame, as the rest was yet to come. "Would you allow me to undo your kimono? I want to make sure you are properly treated."

She nodded in assent and locked her wide eyes to his face, as she was certain to behold the sight of him undressing her surpassed any logical description. His touch was tender, the careful way he opened the heavy layers of royal garments. He took no advantage in her mishap, and only pulled the necessary part apart. With the alcohol came the sharp kiss of sterilizing, the fresh water cleaned and tended the ambient area and with needle and thread he enclosed the marks of her brutality. Her hand rested upon his thigh while he busied himself in the duty, which he executed to the best of his abilities.

The deep sunken cheeks of the heiress bloomed with the scarlet color of life and upon calming down, her body regained its petite form. The hues of life flushed up with feeble energy into the countenance, her limbs relaxed, and save that the eyelids were yet pressed heavily together, a soft smile lingered on her face. Her jaw hurt from the vanishing of fangs but the pain was not dolorous, as it was relief.

She felt his fingers again, as they closed loosely the garments. She was picked up then, and within a few steps taken, her back welcomed the familiar tenderness of her bed upon which he put her.

"Try and sleep. You should be all right now…" Kakashi knelt down as he spoke quietly, wishing to keep the peacefulness of the atmosphere that at last welcomed them. "And do not do this again. You can't heal yourself, and I am not a doctor."

"Did I worry you?" She uplifted her eyes to see him under the faint light of the stark night.

"You frightened me."

"I am sorry…" Tsunade bit upon her lower lip as shame tinged in her sweet voice. "Could you stay with me, until I fall asleep? Please."

The samurai nodded in the positive and leaned down, on his side. With unvoiced desires he understood her needs and pulled her slender body against his frame. He folded his arm around her, which she rewarded with a soft sigh escaping through her lips. Her nose brushed against his chest while she smiled to the strokes of the warrior, who found great delight in toying with her hair. They listened to the stillness of the air, the quiet of the wind. Once more, there was tranquility, which by degrees invited the sojourners of the chamber to an undisturbed slumber.

It was but the pounding of the heart his ears could hear, the two rapidly beating drums as if singing to each other through their ribcages. The maddened rhythms ceased as the bodies drifted into sleep. Before he could have swooned to a good night rest, his eyes forced themselves open. Kakashi planted a long kiss on the top of her head as if hesitating upon leaving her. Carefully he unlocked his embrace and slipped out of the futon bed, his whole existence in grave resistance to what he must do, for he had to return to the village.

Upon leaving, Kakashi found the young priest on the porch, buried in dreams. "Hey, Jiraiya…" He poked the young man in the back until consciousness presented itself within him.

He groaned wearily and rubbed his eyes to behold the samurai's sight. "Is she okay?"

Kakashi took a seat beside him and averted his gaze upon the dawning sky. "Yes. Do not let her touch that sword again. It only stirs that beast awake. It's a demon after all, Jiraiya, it wants its whole power back."

"I didn't know…I won't let it happen..." He spoke with fumbling apologies for a fool he felt for committing such error.

There came a long pause of silence between the two, as words were hard to find. They listened to the rumbling of a distant thunder, while the inky vaults of heaven were mollified by the violet clouds.

"Thank you for not killing her." At last, Jiraiya added with a sigh rolling on his tongue.

Kakashi offered a feeble glimpse of fatigued smile before he replied with serenity. "There are times when the heart's whisper is louder than that of the mind's shouting. There are times when the sense of duty fails in favor of the deed of emotion… You see,… My father… He has made the same mistake once that I made now. He was destined to purify this world from the filth of demons, let it be good or bad. A hunter does not make a difference."

"Why not?"

"Because the earth was meant for humans to reign upon, to build upon, to prosper, and to cherish. And it is the God's task to punish or bless them. Supernatural has its own rules, by those they make a judgement without the trouble of listening to their gods. And then, many gods arise, deities who shan't be more than legends. People live in fear and wish to control the uncontrollable. Thus, to balance the game of good and evil, the only way is to annihilate immortals."

"But she is innocent... She had no word in this! How can you kill someone who is a victim like any of us?"

"I will not kill the heiress. I wish I could. I wish I could do what I must but I may very well perish with the same shame my father did."

"He saved a demon too?" Jiraiya's eyebrows were shaped in curiosity as he listened to the elder speak.

"He did." Kakashi nodded in the positive. "She was mother."

"Wow…That is why you can do that lightning thing, right?"

The samurai chuckled upon the eagerness of the young one and replied heartily. "Yes. I can do much more than that, but it is better not to abuse that power."

The strokes of the bell engaged his spirit and he aroused from the porch, at last. "Keep an eye on her. If you need anything, Lord Hiruzen can help. I have a very bad feeling about this, but perhaps it is just a hunch."

Jiraiya nodded in assent and with severe devotion he too rose to his feet and bowed in polite manner. "I will. I will clean up the room while she sleeps."

"That is a good idea, but be quiet." And upon that thought, on he went like the flash of a lightning.

 ** _Not long after, that night..._**

The greater part of the fearful night had worn away and the day dawned to the friendless and houseless beggars who roamed the streets throughout the long desolate night. He slipped back to the house at an early time of an unknown hour, and he offered no excuses for his lateness, nor heeded in the least the reproofs he gained for ignoring the dinner and other plans altogether. Quietly he stood at the door and listened with keen attention to the gentle scolding of his wife.

"…And why are you soaked in blood? Where is your cloak? Was there really a demon? Shuya told me about your sword..." Rin sighed as she faced him, her arms folded over her chest.

"There was." He nodded and answered on a plain tone.

"Did you kill it?" She furthered, since he seemed perplexingly uncommunicative. Something was wrong, she felt it.

"No, I did not kill it."

"Why not? Isn't that your job? The reason you are never here, hunting demons?"

"If I was here as much as you claim you need it, I would be bothering you and Iruka, don't you think?"

Words stuck in her throat in that moment, her hands dropped on her sides and blood came in torrents to her temples. The sound of her frantic heart reverberated through her ribcage as she was certain she would swoon.

"How long have you been cheating on me?" His voice sounded frustratingly calm while there could be no doubt about the ignominious tempest in his spirit. Curiosity took the worst of him as he wondered how long betrayal could bloom. Could it be weeks? Or perhaps he has been being fooled for months?

"Kakashi…"

"How long, Rin?"

"Three years."


	8. Burning Desire

_**"We are never so defenseless against suffering as when we love." -Freud**_

* * *

The dawn's air was cold and misty. The sullen murmurs of the night reverberated with the clamoring howl of a thousand throats. The atmosphere became dissonant with the horrible wind instruments that resounded and claimed reign over the inky vaults of heaven.

The wind's funereal music was perturbed with the cadenced footfalls of the man. He was the only one to walk through the narrow streets and never once glance upon the vast height of the surrounding houses. Scared, he was not. In fact, the lurking fear within the wind sang the song of his arrival.

The lord of all evil was clothed from head to food in richly embroidered black velvet pall that was wrapped negligently around his tall, stout frame after the fashion of a royal cloak. He was in triumph, for soon he would be king, and so he was dressed in the proper state of victory.

With deliberate steps he walked through the streets and like the Plague, those who did not lock tight enough the doors would feel the presence of the passing Pestilence. The innocent sojourners of the homes would tremble with unknown horror while others awoke to the calling of the Devil.

Apertures unlocked, they followed their master at last, and so the army of Darkness marched quietly through the village where the only tones sounding were the shrill shrieks of the perturbed wind.

Underneath the bending trees of a lofty forest they stood upon the moon cursed land and the men as loyal servants, like dogs, surrounded their leader. Not everyone belonged there, oh no. On the other side of the dark, oily river hid a child of a young age, shaken into consciousness by the eerie whispers of the wind, driven by curiosity to decipher the mysteries of the samurai world.

He shrouded himself within the thick undergrowth and listened with piqued interest of what these men were to plan. His young soul was enflamed with the idea of becoming even more important to his parents, especially to his father. That man whom these blind dogs lauded to the skies, that man at the other side of the thick oily river, that man standing upon the back of another only to rise above them all, was by no means a good one. Thus he listened, and he listened very carefully.

"My dear samurai, those who came today for this occasion that shall change the world once and for all, you have made the right decision. I have been rumored that I like war. My friends, I do indeed. No, my friends, I _love_ war! My profound love in riots, in the smallest of fights, in sieges and holocausts, wars across streets, in grasslands, in the cold, frozen ground, through the deserts. I seek it on the sea, in the air, in every inch of existence, because war makes us man! War makes us warriors! We were meant to fight!"

"War makes us warriors!" The men hailed with wild excitement glowing in their eyes as they looked upon the General in front of them.

Madara's well chosen words were the key to riot, and he was well aware how to enflame the furnace of a soldier's heart, for he was one of them. The General resumed. "I love blasting the enemy into pieces with the sharp blade of the sword as I thunder across the lines of battle. My heart leaps with the purest of joy whenever a body is thrown up into the air and a heavy rain of arrows mantle it completely. There is nothing more arousing like the screaming of the enemy pleading for its life, or when a warrior stabbing tirelessly into the chest of a long-dead victim, until the gut twirls around the blade."

"War makes us warriors!" They repeated underneath the skeleton-arms of the trees, upon the unholy ground of betrayal.

"Samurai, all I ask for is a war, for Justice. A war so horrible as to make Lucifer shiver upon his throne. Samurai, I ask you as brothers, what is it you truly want? Do you wish for Justice as I do? Do you wish for a merciless, bloody war to purify this world from those unworthy? A war whose fury is built with steel, and lightning, and fire, to eliminate the weak and the useless? Do you ask for war to savage like a tempest, leaving not even vultures to scavenge on this Earth?"

The blinded fools applauded their leader and unison they screamed, " _war is what we want_ ".

The General resumed, his voice drunken with the taste of triumph. "We are the clenched fist of our Goddess, ready to strike down all who oppose us. After enduring decades under the weak leadership of the Senju, after wallowing in filth and ripped from our rights and beliefs, a simple war shall not suffice. We will show what a war is, what is the true sound of the earth shaking! We are but a single force, our clan and those who follow our steps, the remnants of a defeated army. It is time for the Senju to awake, who now lie asleep in silk we deserve to have, in a palace within which we deserve to live."

Upon that impulse, Madara lifted his gaze high upon the dull grey sky and with arms wide open he called for the power of Izanami. "Our Goddess, let us drag them out of bed, by the hair, and remind them of what we are! We will remind them of what it feels like to live in fear. We will remind them of your power and show your beauty by our blades against their throats. My brothers, let us bring them war."

In that instant came a sudden change of air. Madara and his men attributed the portentous atmosphere to the sign of Izanami and thus with eyes closed, all shut out the sight of the celestial sphere, which flashed like lightning through the General's abdomen. Out of that crash came darkness, and he heard the shrieking of his men. The tempestuous winds arose, and chilled everyone to the bone while Madara's eyes widened in sheer surprise.

It was not the blessing of the Goddess nor the fury of her brother; it was a child's blazing heart that wounded the naïve leader of the evil agency. Astonished by the bold courage of the boy, the samurai entrapped him in a circle whence he could not escape anymore. Amidst that group, Shuya recognized faces he knew, faces he once assumed to have the same good heart yet now all he saw was betrayal. Betrayal of his family and of his home.

"How did you do that, kid?" The General's curiosity was greater than his anger, thus he simply ripped a long piece of his cloak and bandaged himself with a temporary solution. Once they returned to the Palace his loyal servant would most certainly heal such a reckless injury, there was simply no need to contemplate further over such atrocity.

"I can show you again, Vulture!"

Orochimaru, -who until this very time remained inactive and uncommunicative, whilst mingled with the throng he gave himself up with great zest and enthusiasm to the enjoyment of the scene, which so obligingly spread itself out before his eyes.

"You dare calling me a vulture?" Madara mused as he walked around the child with an observing gaze shot at him. The straight posture, the cold stare within those young orbs and the tousled silver crown could not betray him more. The evil lord chuckled and a sudden wave of loud laughter escaped through his lips.

He could not believe how he was fooled by a kid, especially by this particular one. "You are a Hatake bastard, aren't you?" He chuckled as he wiped away the tears of his amusement. "Oh just how much I despise all of you! Our Goddess was truly generous today, sending you into my way! Now I can send you back to your parents in pieces!"

"Chidori!" Shuya screamed, with no sign of fear displayed upon his tender features. It was devotion, determination, and the will of Lightning that manifested the content of his soul. Even at such a young age, he was not afraid to die, for death was nothing but a mere passage into the unknown. He was also taught that people never lost each other, they simply had to wait to meet again and that way peace always governed his heart.

This time the General easily circumvented his attack, nonetheless he remained astonished with the power of the one in front of him. Shuya's demeanor reminded him of his very own young self, how fierce and fearless he used to be when he was the same age. The idea of taking his life enflamed Madara even more, and thus he gave sign to his keenest satisfaction with a maniacal laugh that reverberated amidst the howling baying of Nature.

He pulled out his sword, with a blade longer than the child was. "Should I cut your head or just impale you and put you on a skewer with a recipe attached? Your family is not vegetarian, is it?"

Shuya noticed the murmurs of the samurai, the familiar faces staring at him with pained features yet too coward to step out or to utter even just a syllable with a tone louder than that of the wind's music. That was cowardice, was it not? That is what it meant to bring shame upon the code of the Bushidou?

The boy ventured upon attacking the General with another bolt of lightning when his reckless rush into Death was abruptly impeded by his father's agency. If fortune was an existent thing, it was the moment of the minutest accuracy when thus it presented itself to the world. Shuya's Chidori vanished the second the child was grabbed by the collar and pushed away into a safe distance from the evil lord.

Orochimaru's smile loosened into a disappointed frown when Kakashi's presence dissipated the accumulating disaster. So close they were to start another riot, to spice the original plans of carnage, it was but a motion of a finger of the General and thus there could be more fury unleashed. Yet there was nothing, that damn child was now safe.

"How low can you go as to send this bastard to spy on us?" Madara asked with his fingers tight around the hilt of his corrupted katana. His eyes flashed with maintained anger and narrowed into two sharp lines that resembled to the most exquisite stroke of a brush.

"My son needs to be reminded of some rules, he was not sent here." Kakashi replied on a measured tone and did not once rivet his gaze anywhere else; one single glimpse upon the throng and he knew Madara would waste not that chance to finish him. "We are going to leave now. I presume soon we shall encounter in a battle you have been so eager to plot."

Tension grew tangible within the cold air of sunrise. Nobody made a sound, nobody moved. The scene reeked with the suffocating stench of unutterable loathing. For several minutes, although Madara looked at Kakashi full in the face, he said nothing. It was the light within the eyes that spoke more than words could ever have, as it was the inborn malevolence within the spirit that flickered in the dark stare.

"Well, why lying anymore, right?" The General, at length broke the appalling stillness of the two, with annoying simplicity ringing in his voice and he shrugged his shoulders in a leisure manner.

Indeed, there was no reason to hide anymore, the war was at the doorstep and the entrance was about to open. "A friendly advice, between enemies; next time make sure the people with whom you surround yourself don't plan on killing you. Betrayal must _really_ hurt." Upon that note, Madara pouted and patted his chest twice above his heart to ridicule the tender-heartedness of the warrior in front of him.

After all, he did manage to fool the most significant people of the village, beginning with the King himself. The mere idea of kindness repelled him to the extreme, the single thought of believing in one another, as it only bred pain and torment.

"If my people betrayed me, I truly wish you will not suffer the same consequences once our swords clash." Kakashi bowed in front of the lord with a gesture of both politeness and ridicule, and before further actions taken, he grabbed his son and vanished amidst the titanic trees and horrible shadows of the eerie dawn.

If there was anyone to follow them, it was the guilty, the wrong, those eaten up by remorse. He knew one person in particular, who would soon be at their step. He saw his face, the ghastly pallor upon the visage, the terrified eyes, the shame all over his character.

Shuya held onto his father and uttered no syllable along the way. The child could not yet measure the severity of his actions, yet he did feel the erroneousness of it all. He was not supposed to leave alone, no matter the knowledge in his possession. He was most definitely not supposed to disappear without a word and thus scare his parents to the extreme. To be brief, he was truly sorry.

Upon arriving home, the child hastened from his father's side and rapidly threw himself on the ground in a deep bow. His forehead touched upon the floor of the living room within which they were and he dared not look up, as he feared the fury of the elder in front of him. He hesitated upon speaking, perhaps just a quiet utter of apology would suffice, or louder entreaty for forgiveness.

"Shuya. Look at me, son." His voice was too rigid to decipher anything from it. It was too demure, too peaceful.

The child trembled. He did not half like the way Kakashi could speak, since there was nothing more confusing than the stillness within the voiced message.

"I said look at me. Stand up."

Shuya reluctantly lifted his head towards him and at length he stood back on his feet. He sensed the warm aura of his mother behind him, the possible tears upon her face assuming the terrified state of her tender heart. He must have surely scared her, or worse. Definitely, it was the worse. "Papa…"

"Why did you do such a stupid thing, son? What on earth made you leave before sunrise?"

"I wanted to be a samurai, like you."

"You could have died, Shuya." Kakashi sighed as he knelt in front of him. Gently he lifted the child's chin up whose eyes were shot at the ground and his hands fidgeted in nervousness behind his back. "I did not teach you to be reckless, did I?"

"No…" He shook his head slowly with a sorrowful frown plastering across his face. His large dark orbs sought anger within his father's features yet all he saw was concern.

"Son, I will not always be there to protect you. One day, you will have to take care of your mother and yourself as well. You cannot behave recklessly, do you understand? Life does not give second chances."

"But Papa, what they said…! What they want! Did you know about it? Do you know what they will do? Why was your group there? Why aren't they with us? Why was Iruka-sama there?"

"What is he talking about?" Rin bit upon her lip as she was quietly listening to the two. She leaned against the door frame with arms loosely folded over her chest, her heart unquiet.

"General Madara has been plotting a coup d'état. Half of our men changed sides once he offered a power we shan't possess. Iruka is one of them. Unfortunately, we only figured it out yesterday." Kakashi replied, his tone void of any emotion.

"That cannot be possible…" The young wife gasped in bafflement as the words slowly sank in. It was hard to comprehend, even harder to believe how someone like him could commit such a crime. It was easy to grow unmindful of the very fact that Iruka was already a traitor, as if not of the kingdom but of his friend.

"Perhaps you should get to know people first before you let them engage in different sorts of activities with you." Kakashi retorted upon a sudden impulse of jealousy as noticing the startled features on his beloved's face. The idea of her being more worried over Iruka than him came with profound inner struggle, something he could not show, especially not in front of their son.

"Shuya…Could you go to your room for a minute?" Rin ventured to speak yet quickly she was detained from furthering her request. The samurai knew well the intentions of the mother.

"He stays." He spoke and rose from the ground while the child's face grew somber in confusion. He had but only some faint notion of the meaning of it all and dearly he wished his instincts were wrong. "Have you made your decision? Now that you know what kind of man you love?"

"You are all the same, Kakashi." Rin began as she wiped her tears away and at length slowly let her arms fell on her sides. "All you think about is killing and fights and war. Did you see what it did to our son? He almost died today! On your account!"

"No, Mama, I-…" The situation was nowhere beneficial to the father, Shuya was aware of it, whilst he did nothing, in fact. Why could she not see that? The child wanted to be a samurai; he wanted to be just like his father. What was so hard to realize about the purest wish of his young soul?

"Not now, Shuya!" Rin ventured with a pained cry and she emptied the contents of her heart. She did not hold back, she could not, not anymore. "If…If this is all true, then the best thing to do is to…You have to let me be with him. You cannot win this war alone, and I need to keep Shuya safe."

"How can you think so foolishly? You think the General should win? Is that so?"

"No, he should not…However…" She shook her head while her arms reached for her son. "If you don't have your group to fight, nobody will fight for those Royals. I will not support a side that is deemed for death. I need to make sure my baby can grow up, in peace. Iruka is a generally peaceful man, Kakashi. You are cold, and…"

He could not believe his ears, he must be dreaming. It could only be but a nightmare, a joke, a ludicrous scene of his wild imagination. He could not fathom the moment, it was impossible.

"You are not taking Shuya away. I will sign your damn papers and you do whatever you want, if you are so blinded by fear, but…" He was rapidly interrupted, and the pain that seized his heart now spread itself swiftly all over, through the chest and mind until he grew completely benumbed in agony.

"How will your protect him, huh? How will you take care of him when hundreds will surround you and want to kill you? You are barely even here anymore! Please sign those papers and let us go!"

"Mama no, I want to stay! The Vulture is evil Mama. Please!"

"You have no say in this, Shuya. Everything is for your safety!" Her slim fingers squeezed and pulled the child further from the warrior who stood frozen in the place.

Kakashi became a slave of circumstances, whence escape there was none, to him. His tone softened for the sole purpose of making her listen, yet nothing he could say was to change the course of Fate. "Rin, listen, you have no idea what you are doing. Things are much more complicated than they seem to you, now. Please, don't do this."

He spoke with grave caution, whilst the samurai followed them through the short, narrow corridor and stopped at the entrance of the kitchen. In an agony of expectation, he awaited her reply. After what seemed the lapse of a century, it came at last.

"No, you do not have an idea, Kakashi! If you love us, then you have to keep us safe, and beside you, it is not. Please, sign those papers. I put them on the counter." She was cold the way she responded while her fingers pointed at the documents.

Shuya cried and struggled yet his pleading found no response nor softened the heart of the woman. She believed in the downfall of the Senju too much, and her naivety led her upon a path of blind faith. It was not the words that hurt, but the fact that she was right; Kakashi could not protect his child, not when the pandemonium was near.

"Please sign it. Either way, we go." Rin repeated.

That woman, whose loveliness and love enveloped his existence for years, was now but an illusion of his aching soul. His only choice was to obey, yet the singular idea of giving up on those he loved more than anything, and watch darkness embrace them was unbearable, even for a spirit made of iron. Kakashi could not fathom the personal hell within which he was forced, in that instant.

"I will not be able to save you, anymore." At length, he handed her the scroll, which she was so eager to have it completed by his signature. His words sounded more of a warning than of a sorrowful remonstrance.

In that moment, they were gone. It was but a second of time, a glance within the distance, a deep inhalation of the cold air to watch them leave. His pale lips parted as if for a scream, yet no words came, for his thoughts seemed too frightful to be uttered. She never looked back. It was all too sudden. He only just brought back their son and now, he was all alone.

The samurai could not help but laugh as he wallowed in despair whilst his mind still battled with the truth. He sat for hours upon the porch, shriveled, fatigued, depressed, opium-crazed, and broke.

The air was full of the joyousness of early spring. The heavy scent of lilies filled the air while the breeze stirred amidst the thick emerald crown of the lofty trees. Animals hid within the long unmown grass and children laughed cheerfully upon the meadow. The sky was bright as time wore along, but there was a shiver within the wind.

And now, some hours of bitter grief having elapsed, an observable change came over the features of the samurai. His attention was suddenly drawn to some vague sound that issued from the vicinity of the village. Upon then, he perceived footfalls easily distinguishable, whilst his eyes leisurely followed the approaching man.

By that time, the pallor of Kakashi's countenance had assumed a more ghastly hue and the deep dark luminousness of his eyes had utterly gone out. He drew long, deep sighs from his chest, and ignored the friendly waves directed to him. To be brief, Kakashi in that moment could not care less about the surroundings, or about the people.

"Hey man,'Kashi!" Asuma roared upon arrival while confusion spread all over his face. "We were expecting you today. What happened? What is this face? Are you listening to me?" He waved his hand in front of the other's face whence no reaction came. "Kakashi?"

"That earnest mutual love, which burned within our ribcages…how vainly we flattered ourselves, feeling so happy in its first springing, yet in time, it merely became painful to love. Hate would have been mercy then. Hate would be mercy now, yet all I have is disconsolation." Kakashi whispered those syllables, which came with a thousand soul-annihilating memories of bygone days, and struck upon his friend's soul with the shock of a battery.

Upon hearing Kakashi, Asuma took a cue at once and understood the wild numbness of his comrade. "Hey man…You know what, you can tell me all about it when we get to Ichiraku's." His efforts seemed fruitless when Kakashi ventured to reply.

"I do not wish to go there." Kakashi rose from the porch with a refusing look upon his face.

"You must. You need to get over your heartbreak. Madara declared war on those refusing to join him. Three samurai were already killed who wanted to reveal the General's plans to the King. He is planning the coup d'état tomorrow, after the wedding."

"The wedding…I completely forgot."

"We need to make a plan alone, since our master is unaware of everything. Half of our group has switched sides. Let us drink on the misery and fight tomorrow, my friend. Come. I found some good books in my father's drawer."

The silver crowned warrior stepped unsteadily forward, while Asuma followed immediately at his heels. "It would be irrational to suppose that we can win anymore."

"The Kakashi I know would never say that." The other shook his head in discontent, as at length they betook towards the village.

"If what you say is true, that we lost most of our men, and we are completely isolated from our master to warn him. Madara must be solid as a rock about his victory. It means he has everything ready."

"So what? We have the Jira girl and my old man. And Guy who only needs a little sake to get it going."

"That 'Jira girl' is _the_ heiress. She is already injured, I would never let her fight this war, Asuma. We still have to find a way to warn her, at least. And tell her to stay out of this. It would be the best if she left _. I can't save everyone_. I don't even know how I will help Rin anymore." He said with decision.

 ** _After several hours…_**

The day waned; and, as its light faded away, Tsunade became possessed by a vague uneasiness she could not quite explain. It was an anxiety such as the sleeper feels when sad, real sounds fall continuously within her ears. Low, dull tones, solemn, at long but equal intervals, which would mingle with melancholic dreams. They were the sounds of doom, a future she considered Darkness. They were the music of the brazen lungs of Hell.

A burdened sigh escaped through her lips while she stepped to the wooden vanity of her room and placed the hairbrush upon it. She gathered the unruly tendrils of her long golden locks into a bun and glanced back into the mirror with grave reluctance, as the view did not please her, in fact, she despised it.

She wore a heavy silk with rich design, woven in bright crimson that fell upon the ground. The bridal kimono was characterized by an abundance of exquisite taste, colourful to a sickening extent and rich in embroidery. Certainly, it was a robe of particular needlecraft yet the singular idea of having to wear it made her shudder with disgust.

"You look wonderful…" Hashirama's voice sounded in the room as he parted the sliding doors open upon entering.

"I look horrible." She sighed as she moved around in the royal garments, her heart heavy with despair. "I…Is there anything…Hashirama-sama, must I do this? Couldn't I become the Queen once I am 18? It is next week anyway..."

"A king is always needed for ruling, dear Tsunade. Unfortunately, women do not have many rights; you have more than others do because you are a Senju. This is a world led by men."

"This is cruel and unjust, Uncle." She folded her arms over her bosom while her gaze rested upon the ground.

"That, I cannot do much about. I can only help you endure it."

"But the General…Uncle…Why do you have such blind faith in him?"

"I have known him my entire life, Tsunade." Hashirama began as he took a seat upon the velvet couch, his eyes never leaving the beloved child. "I understand your fear and confusion, but nobody else is more fitting for the throne than him. He is a good person, he is just different. You are scared; it is only natural that you question him."

"He killed the priest, Hashirama-sama!" She was stubborn to the core as she furthered the animated discussion. With a restless spirit she began to pace up and down in the room, whilst listened to the elder's replies.

The syllables uttered were termed with pure love and infatuation. "He did it to protect everyone. The priest…He was a traitor, Tsunade. Lord Shikaku and Lord Minato found all the evidence at the shrine. Listen, my dear… Marriage is not about love. It is a political step to strengthen our nation. I truly believe you will grow to like Madara, perhaps feel even more than that. That way, your future won't be miserable."

"And if I love someone else? What if I am in love with someone?"

The King could not help but chuckle. "The love you might feel is but a fancy or a fantasy of the moment. It is but a baseless and unstable creation rather of the imagination than of the heart. It is an impulse, a yearning for something exciting. My dear Tsunade, you do not even know anyone, how could you think what you feel is deeper than a spark of foolish curiosity?"

"But if I did? What if I do like someone?"

"Is he of noble blood?" Curiosity shaped his eyebrows as he asked.

"No…I do not think so…Well, he is not like us…But his heart is purely noble." She knew her answer was not satisfactory but she spoke it nonetheless. Deeply she believed the man she so fancied was better than most people of the Court, as he too was but a victim of Fate.

"Then he is a no one." His words reverberated in the air like sharp knives arriving at her direction with mad velocity.

Every utterance was a painful music to her heart that grew embittered by the future already sealed. Even at the risk of offending him, she furthered. "This is how my mother felt? When she married you?"

There came a moment of silence while the King sought the right words to say. In truth, he was aware of the reality, yet to utter it was a task harder than he would have believed so. "I presume yes." Now, there came a low laugh that erected the hairs upon her skin.

Her heart grew sick the longer she pondered about her fate. Hashirama was a kind man whilst Madara was nothing of the same character. How could she love that demon? At least her mother was surrounded with goodness, such things only reveries to her now. Her sweet, young features experienced a radical alteration for the worse, and she stopped on her tracks upon asking, "So I marry him…And that is all, right?"

"Of course not, child. I had no intention of alarming you unnecessarily, but you should know that everything you have learnt so far was to serve you becoming a proper wife, and mother."

"Can I become a mother when I want to?" She proposed an idea, hoping dearly she could at least decide about the date, approximately around never. Children she would never give to the evil lord as it repelled her to the extreme to conceive even the mere thought of it.

"No. It is a customary rule to bed after the wedding. It is a part of the ceremony. Otherwise, Madara cannot take the throne. You two need to do everything by tradition. It is only fortunate that the General does not have brothers anymore. Imagine you running off with one of them, like your mother tried." Hashirama mused to himself with a bitter tone, finding joy in his own pitiable life.

"She did?"

The King nodded. "She was already expecting you when we married. The only reason I could become a king was that we kept it as a secret. If it had been revealed, Tobirama would have taken the throne."

"So I cannot marry someone without noble blood but I could ruin my wedding if Madara was not the first I had se-..."

"This conversation is making me uncomfortable, Tsunade." He interrupted as he rose from the couch, his fatigued visage tinted in red shades of embarrassment. "You should focus on your duties and have a good rest for tomorrow. You shan't think about such. You are a woman, you must refrain yourself from being so open to these sensitive subjects."

"I feel like being a damn puppet to this kingdom."

"Child…Your task is to raise heirs. That should make you happy. The King will take care of the rest."

"This is complete superiority over women."

"I told you, Tsunade. You have more rights than most of them. Why are you being so ungrateful?"

"Please, leave me alone now. I have a headache. I need to get a good night sleep, for tomorrow. You do not want me to scare your friend to death, do you? I cannot allow looking tired."

"All right. You should rest. And please, stop being immature. You need to be responsible for the things you say and do. Everything has consequences." Upon speaking those last words, the King left the room.

 _"I will keep that in mind, Hashirama-sama. You will see."_ With an agitated soul she ventured to reply yet she knew she was not heard anymore. She was shaking in every limb with burning fury that rapidly consumed her sanity. She did not doubt the doom already prepared for her, no matter what her actions were to be.

If doom indeed was approaching, she might as well choose the one most fitting to her liking. Quietly the heiress waited until stillness pervaded all Nature and amidst the luxuriant and shadowing groves, in the dull gloom of the sweet primaveral evening she hastened to make an end of her labor.

 ** _After a few hours…_**

Laying on the futon in a private room, Kakashi was reading a singular and somewhat ingenious little book whose title bore the name 'Icha Icha Paradise'. Every fibre of the samurai's frame was benumbed in alcohol. Dry bottles lay scattered around him upon the tatami floor, once he drowned in sake all memory of the deed of willing surrender.

His hand reached for anything at least half full, while his eyes were reluctant to move away from the blurred lines of the exquisite content. With a sigh, he canvassed his surroundings and grabbed the neck of a bottle. He emptied it at a breath. His eyes flashed with a fierce light of satisfaction. Then, he laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation nobody could quite comprehend.

After some few hours of pain, the warrior was now filled with dreamy delirium and was replete in ecstasy. Once sober, and if he remembered, he would be grateful to Asuma for bringing him here. Before he could have lingered on that thought any longer, there was a faint knock on the door. Numb from alcohol he merely shouted, his coarse voice followed by a wicked chuckle of his irrational mind.

"Kakashi? Asuma-sama said you were…" The innocent creature's eyes widened and her pale skin reddened with timid zeal. Her hands rapidly shut back the door whilst she dreaded she was to swoon in any second.

"Wa-wait!" Kakashi staggered forward at once, and a few steps brought him to reopen the entrance behind which the heiress stood, rigid as marble. "Sorry Tsuna… I wass just rrreading."

"Reading? Naked? On the floor?" The young woman whispered whilst she encouraged the man to step back inside, for the view was by no means innocent to stranger eyes. "What on earth did happen to you? I have never seen you like this."

"You obviii-ously don't know me, then." He slurred with a cold gaze offered to her. It took all the power of the invalid to remain standing but he was nonetheless adamant in pretending his cool.

"Cut your nonsense, Kakashi. You are drunk and…aren't you cold?" Tsunade frowned as she spoke boldly, such an action drawing a wide smile over the samurai's face. He did enjoy a free spirit, did he not?

"What about you? You look like a freaking peacock in that thing." Kakashi teased the heiress who grew uneasy with his comment.

She was well aware of the ridiculous state she was in, not to mention the reason of her presence. "This is my wedding dress." She sighed upon confession and in that instant shut her eyes to the ground.

"I am not going to marry you, ifff that is why you came."

"I would rather die than ask that of you!" She retorted but grew silent all of a sudden.

Her shyness came to his perception, the sudden hesitation in her voice that she dared not speak more of her true intentions. Kakashi leaned down to grab the almost empty bottle of sake and handed it to her.

"What do you want then, peacock?" Thus, he watched her, his eyes did not leave an inch of the view unexplored.

The heiress was a magical sight to behold, and it was even easier to get lost in the moment of adoration of her countenance. She wore in a graceful and degage manner a large and beautiful dress of the finest handicraft; her hair hung in naughty ringlets over her neck whilst a soft smile played about her full, ripen mouth.

Before she could have said anything, Tsunade swallowed the drink unhesitatingly. "Kakashi,..."

"Yes?"

This delicate little creature, in the trembling of her wasted consciousness, in the peachy hue of her lips, at length said; "I want you to sleep with me. Please."

Glances had passed between them, glances within complete quietude of the air. Kakashi observed the nervous vacillation in her visage, the joyous inquietude in her faultless gaze. She had no idea of what she asked, did she? "Have you gone mad, Senju?"

"I don't trust anyone else. Hell, I don't even know anyone else to ask! You surely know how to do it. Please." Her eyes, those magnificent hazel eyes, had not belied her noble heart. Truly, there was no one she wished to be with, in that moment, and so her fingers reached behind her back to undo the heavy layers of vestiture. "I don't trust anyone else to do it." She repeated whilst invisible tears wetted her eyes. She must have been a pitiable sight, pleading for such blasphemous desires from a man with a family.

He could not decipher why in the name of everything rational this was happening, but indeed it was real. She was standing right there, her full lips besprinkled in the drops of alcohol, her body carefully vested, her hair minutely made. Whereas sanity there was none, upon an impulse abrupt, he broke forth with ardor and claimed those ripen mouth with his.

The perfume with which her tenderness caressed his soul to the last, affected him with sweet fancies of flowers, far more lovely than any of the Earth. His senses, although excited in degree, were not irregular in action. Kakashi pulled her against him with an extravagance of precision, not less than of sensibility. His touch underwent a modification more peculiar, more ardent as he eagerly freed her petite frame from the royal garments.

On her sweet tongue, so adapted to his passion, he gave loose to the impetuous enthusiasm of his nature. Obediently, she fought the fierce battle of his mouth whilst his hands explored the bare canvas of her body.

Due to the abundant extent of alcohol, each impression was tardily received, but resulted always in the highest physical pleasure. Her closeness, her touch, her taste filled his whole being with a sensual delight immeasurable.

They worked out their own way of destruction in the perversion of their taste, soul enflamed by the stir of lust. The samurai laid his muse amidst the scattered bottles and open books, the soft skin clashing against the sheets of the futon. Kakashi's visage was bewitched by the unmitigated display of her untouched body, a piece of art on its own. It was a sight of far solitudes, primeval, odorous, and unexplored.

He wanted to conquer her, in a way only a man could conquer a woman. It thrilled every fibre of his frame with ecstasy alone, that she was there, that she coveted his touch, that she needed only him.

His parted lips trailed from her mouth, and traced tender kisses upon her throat and down her sweet full bosom. By sudden shyness she reached to cover the rosy peaks of her beautifully curved breasts and thus Kakashi's fingers detained her small hands before such accident was to occur. The heiress grew red to the action and reaction he stirred within her, the abundant torrents of blood that rushed in her body, the feeling of heat that overwhelmed her with sensations completely unknown. Through her mouth little moans escaped into the heavy atmosphere of lust, joyous cries she could not contain anymore.

The samurai's tongue was skilled like his hands in battle, it was agile, arousing and the sight of him feasting upon her soft bosom sent a strange ache between her legs. She could not fathom such sensation, or the waves of soft shivers that slowly wetted her insides. Her graceful legs reached around the man's waist with an unconquerable need to feel him.

It was but moments when at last, they discarded the notion of comeliness and pleasure came in a long, sharp cry.

Her sweet body trembled at the unison, her young and delicate flesh unfurled with one swift motion of the warrior's thick member. Of pain there was some little; of pleasure there was much. The woman's soft voice mingled with the husky moans of the man who slowly guided himself back and forth within her. The original resistance of her tight insides ceased and with a steady pace, their loins undulated sensually against one another.

She was loud, greedy, and held him with insatiable thirst for pleasure; every little detail that turned his wanton pounding even more exhilarating. She kissed him fiercely and even fiercer he was to reply. The moments of love turned into lustful battling when the growing euphoria rapidly drove them to a desire-maddened state. She conquered his body as her petite existence straddled him, and farther they rolled amidst the mess with bodies clashing, legs locking, and moans filling the air.

His name was the last she uttered, the syllables rolled down on her tongue like honey when a sudden wave of sheer pleasure took over her. Her fingers sank into his shoulders while she trembled underneath him, the sensation so great she never thought it existed. The samurai bathed her warm insides with the rich traces of his satisfaction, and slowly and fatigued guided himself out of her. With a content sigh he fell upon the ground beside the woman panting, their gazes locked at the dull view of the ceiling.

The heat of passion began to fade and the first breeze of the generally cold air chilled the heiress' skin. With reluctance and pleasantly aching body her hands reached for the garments and loosely she blanketed her frame. "I should go."

"Go, then. I am glad that you are happy now. Women are all the same."

Her young features darkened in a frown and her eyes evoked confusion within. She could not ascribe his comment to the previous occurrences and thus she grew concerned about the root of it. The sudden gloom that enveloped them grew tangible within the light atmosphere. Kakashi's tone was devoid of any emotion, his heart recluse of kindness.

"I changed my mind." Tsunade bit upon her raw lower lip, and grabbed the blanket from the floor to cover the bare body of the man beside her. She could not deny the majestic view of the samurai, the single sight of him arousing to the blindest of eyes and wicked to the purest of soul. Nonetheless, the air was cold and she must control her bodily responses.

With delirious torpor still, she lay back beside him; Kakashi replied simply turning on his side, but the heiress was adamant. "I know what you like…" She whispered on a candid tone and she reached up to his hair to stroke the silky tendrils of his silver-crown.

After a few minutes, he confessed with frustration completely dissipated from his soul. "I really like that." His eyes closed in order to feel only her caresses, to perceive nothing else of this world except her existence. Before he could have said anything else, -since he did ponder hard what else to add not to seem so cold-, there was a kiss she planted upon his back, which made him shiver with delight, the kind he has long forgotten. It was the sensation of pure affection, recluse of lust or desire. It was the sheerest notion of care and kindness, which bloomed in the heart and was born by the action of a simple peck. "Tsuna."

"Yes?"

"Why did you forgive me? I am a ruthless murderer."

"Are you still drunk?" She sat up halfway, when she was stopped.

Kakashi turned with the second her indulging caresses vanished and reclaimed the relishable sensation with the simple motion of pulling her back to him. He needed to hear it from her, in fact he longed to be called that way, thus it would be true. Ever since the accusation spoken out loud, at first it rang in his ears, then it seized at his heart and spread like contagion all over his brain. If she said the same, then it was true, and if it was indeed nothing but reality, he did the right thing letting his family go.

Upon awaiting the answer, they faced each other, the young woman comfortably held in his arm. To her, his words were fortuitous and alarming which only led her to believe her words had utmost significance, thus they needed to be chosen wisely. Unfalteringly, she resumed. "I did want to kill you. I never felt anger and pain like that before. And even if my brain grows blank, I can never forget the memory of it. Also, I cannot forget the memory of your face. The way you looked at me, guilt-eaten."

She paused and took a deep breath to restrain the recollection of the past becoming visible upon her face. She did not want to cry, it was simply not the time for it. "Everyone in my family follows rules and lives by them. I know what it means to sacrifice your life for a code. My father did the same. My uncle does the same. You didn't kill him because you wanted to, I could never believe that. You did it because you had no choice. For a samurai the orders of the master are above everything. I cannot imagine how you felt when you realized it wasn't Hashirama-sama's wish. I am just glad you didn't kill yourself. I know that most of you commit suicide upon failure."

She spoke with unexpected candor and Kakashi grew blank in mind. He did not find the words to say or to even whisper them. Memories afflicted his spirit unduly, whilst he struggled to find the egress from the abysmal trap of remorse.

Tsunade observed his rapidly changing features with chief interest. The faultless portraiture grew dismal with sorrow, the same expression she had seen before. "Kakashi." Impelled by affection she reached up to his cheek and kissed it ever so softly.

In that instant, his mind jerked back to reality. "I am sorry. I am really sorry." He sighed.

"Can we talk about something else?" She proposed.

"Like what?"

"Can we do it again? If it is the last good day I have, I want to spend it with you."


	9. Le Jardin des Mœurs

_**"**_ _ **There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness."**_ _ **-**_ **_Nietzsche_**

* * *

It was a night of remarkable stillness when the moon climbed highest upon the illimitably dark sky. The lights and motions in the houses and the streets had ceased and the village somnolent did it lie, on the strange bottom of hollow valleys.

Within the silence of the brooding night, there came through the lattice the soft sighs, which he thought had long forsaken him. They modelled themselves into a familiar and sweet voice as they lingered, and by degrees restored him to the full possession of his memory; recollections of the most painful nature, which he wished not to recall, yet never once had they wholly departed from him.

Madara arose from his agitated slumber, with all his senses in confusion to the contemplation of the very startling phenomenon. Although it was expected, he did not expect it at the moment. At first, he made an effort to erase this nightmare of the soul.

Shaken from sleep, he remained, for an hour perhaps, half-sitting, half reclined, with his vision riveted upon the dancing curtains of the window shaken to life by the invisible breeze. It was not only her voice he heard; it was her touch upon his hand, a kiss upon the forehead that summoned the memory of his beloved.

Wearied at heart with anxieties, which had their origin in the past, he at length rose from the futon and shrouded his bare frame in a velvet crimson pall. His arms rested upon the window-sill whilst the moon's faint light bathed his visage in indissoluble gloom. Furtive tales reverberated within the ears and far recollections played in front of his eyes.

A single knock shook him from his contemplation and the door opened at his simple will. "What do you want, Itachi?"

"I wanted to make sure that the orders you had given today were heard clearly and shan't be misunderstanding." He bowed and remained in front of the entrance upon closing it behind him.

The Dark Lord did not move nor did he rivet his eyes from the moon's calling strokes. "Tomorrow is my daughter's 6th birthday, Itachi."

"I know, Madara." He nodded in the positive. "That is why we should eliminate her clan without you there."

"Her mother didn't care I was a monster. She shan't either. The moon had seen despair and glory. Tomorrow, it shall see it once again. I will pay back for everything, Itachi. Everything they had done to me, to us. The throne, Izuna's, Yona's death… For taking my child from me." Upon speaking, a deep, and sinister smile spread over Madara's face and his soul was once more enflamed with life.

 ** _17 years ago…(2 years before the War of Creation)_**

 _She was a woman of the rarest beauty, and not more lovely than being full of glee. With a feeling of deep, yet most singular affection he regarded her, every time their paths would cross, and they did very often. Thrown by accident into her society many years ago, Madara's soul from their first encounter burnt with fires it had never before known._

 _She was the heiress of the Hyuuga clan, the only child of one of the two founding fathers, Byakuya Hyuuga. Human art could have done no more in the portrayal of her superhuman beauty._

 _The expression of her countenance, always beamed all over with a warm smile,_ _and walked the earth with_ _fairy feet, alone visible, yet barely touching the earth. The brilliant atmosphere, which seemed to encircle and enshrine her loveliness, floated a pair of the most delicately imagined wings upon her back. She was an angel, by all means and tales._

 _For her hand, men rushed to battles and truces were made, whilst the clan prospered and strengthened by the alliances. One of the greatest of the five, the question of leadership long employed the spirit of those hungry for order._

 _Notwithstanding the slightest error that women possessed the freedom of a caged bird, her heart chose its pair in a night like any other, shrouded with the mist of furtive mysteries. And they met, and fate bounded them together, and_ _it was fairest and dearest, that they wrapped their spirits daily in purple reveries of love. It was a happiness to wonder; it was a happiness to dream._

 _"_ _My Lady." Madara smiled upon the sweet encounter when his eyes caught the glimpse of his beloved. His body burnt in high state of fever, fever of affection and profound longing for her. With a bow, he greeted the heiress in front of him whilst his lips coveted the sensation of her touch. Their love was secret, thus such expressions of lustful urges were to be strictly hidden in public._

 _"_ _My…My Lord_ _…"_ _The pallor of the fair countenance, the swelling of the fair bosom, the very purity of the fair feet, he beheld suddenly as it flushed over with a tide of ungovernable crimson and blush mantled her pallid cheeks. Oftentimes she would swoon upon meeting him, and could utter no clear syllable._

 _In her usual nervousness, she brushed a long raven ringlet behind her ear. She riveted her eyes onto the ground, while every inch of her existence evinced the truth of her heart's content, to Madara's profoundest satisfaction._

 _"_ _Shall we go in? People must be expecting us." The young Uchiha offered a wicked smile to the woman's timid countenance and threw the large wooden aperture open for her._

 _"_ _Y-yes, my-my Lord." Yona nodded before she was halted by the warrior's lips that whispered into her ear._

 _"_ _I prefer when you call me 'My Love'." He knew well such teasing would most certainly cause her to drop into a swoon, yet he could not keep himself from the small joys of their sin._

 _The room within which they found themselves proved to be a lofty chamber for discussions. At one extremity of the room, bottles of various sakes and cordials, together with jugs, and flagons of every quantity and quality were scattered profusely. In the middle of the room stood a table around which the five clans of the highest class were usually seated for matters with grave significance to the society they named "Hidden Leaf"._

 _Fronting the entrance sat a personage who appeared to be the president of the table or at least someone rather important. His stature was gaunt and tall, long tousled hair of dark maroon brushing the faultlessness of his frame._

 _On one side of him, a silver-crowned warrior rested his head on the tough, cold surface of the furniture, while on the opposite whistled the raven-haired brother of Madara whose eyes suggested the gravest discontent upon beholding him. "You are late, brother."_

 _"_ _Why is that such a problem, Izuna?" Madara's sharp gaze narrowed and cautiously he approached the table._

 _Hashirama's chuckle and that victorious glow within his deep, large eyes foretold the reason of the Uchiha's frown; he lost the bet, again._

 _The shutting of the door disturbed the silver-haired warrior, and looking up, he found the two newcomers seating themselves in polite manner, not too far yet not so close from each other._

 _"_ _Where are the Namikaze?" The elder Uchiha wasted no time and forthwith proposed the question._

 _"_ _They went to check the barriers. If we really proceed with building a home, first we have to make sure we can keep it safe from intruders. We are only lucky to have found a land so prosperous." Tobirama replied on his usually demure tone, devoid of any emotion. "The Shimura were here, while we were waiting for you to show up. We had already settled the things with them." He added, to Madara's greatest curiosity._

 _"_ _What do you mean?"_

 _"_ _Brother, we have been discussing the best choice for governance. We want you to join us and figure out what would be the best for Konoha. The Shimura are not interested in Democracy, whilst the Namikaze opted in favor of it."_

 _"_ _It has always been clear to me." Madara replied. "What did the Hyuuga say?"_

 _"_ _We hoped Lady Yona would tell us, your father seems very busy with internal affairs."_

 _"_ _I must apologize for my father's lack of presence." She spoke, with a voice tinged with candid remorse. "Lord Kageroza might take over the leadership of our clan. My father has grown ill, for some time now and it is only natural that the other founding father will continue our people's guidance."_

 _"_ _The twins' father? What is their name, Hibashi and Hinashi? I am never good with names."_

 _Madara's loquacious nature and its boldness impelled Yona to beam with a warm smile upon looking at him. She shook her head and corrected the man. "Hiashi and Hizashi."_

 _"_ _When will be this change in your clan? When will the twins' father take over?"_

 _"_ _Well, let me think…" The heiress bit upon her lip as she pondered and fidgeted her fingers as a habit of nervousness. "You, Tobirama-sama last week mentioned a war that might await us. With the other growing nations."_

 _"_ _That is right. The War of Creation." Tobirama nodded and the young woman resumed._

 _"_ _After the war Lord Kageroza will govern the clan and since Hiashi is his eldest son, it is only natural he will inherit everything. Our rules are strict and I am speaking now with all conviction."_

 _"_ _What will happen to you then?" Madara's interest rapidly changed from ruling to the question of her future. A sudden idea that awoke in his spirit tormented him with bitterly; he needed to make sure it was but his jealousy speaking._

 _"_ _Ca-can we talk about that later, my Lord? W-we are here t-to discuss the question of our village."_

 _"_ _I want to know. Answer me." The warrior rose from the chair with impetuous zeal. The blunt tone of his fist smashed upon the table reverberated through the wooden furniture._

 _Yona trembled at the fortuitous change of Madara's behavior, something, that in any event was no means primeur to the ones surrounding him._

 _"_ _Brother." Izuna, albeit younger, possessed traits of calmness and patience, things the elder usually lacked. His fingers ran around Madara's wrist in a taut grip and forced the petulant sibling back on his seat. "Let's discuss first why we came."_

 _"_ _Fine." Madara folded his arms over his chest, with a gaze eldritch to the tender spirit of his beloved. He was never in control of his emotions and his fiery spirit burnt those closest around him. With his ludicrous pride hurt, at length he forced himself to bother with the nuisance of creating a government. "I vote for Dictatorship. The hidden Leaf does not possess enough strong clans, people are inexperienced and most of them have never seen a battle. People need strong hands to guide them."_

 _"_ _So we have a vote for Democracy, two for Dictatorship." Hashirama penned the information on the scroll that lay in front of him, meditating about the choices._

 _"_ _We-we could…H-how about..Kingship? Our clans are made of aristocrats with special knowledge and power. Th-the Senju can move and control Nature's most elements while the Uchiha's strength lies within the flames of fire. And…The Namikaze are fast and strong, the Shimura are excellent fighters and…we have the Byakugan."_

 _"_ _That is a good_ _idea, Lady Yona." Tobirama nodded in the affirmative. Every group could be included to aid and govern. The progress of our village would not be impeded by fear."_

 _"_ _These people don't need a kind heart, they need-…"_

 _"_ _We agree with the idea." Izuna's indecorous interruption was inevitable and before Madara's spirit grew ungovernable, he added. "We are already regarded as savages; we need to show that we are not barbarians. Brother, I believe a kingship is what Konoha needs. And after that, of course it could change."_

 _"_ _That is splendid! We should bet about the king!" Hashirama clapped his hands together with a joyous smirk plastering over his flawless visage. He was a man of the kindest heart and greatest power of his clan, such trait nobody would believe upon encountering him. "Who wants to rule? I nominate my brother!"_

 _"_ _Not on earth I will do that." Tobirama shook his head in the negative and added. "What's more, you are going to marry Himeko-sama. It will represent a strong bond between our people."_

 _"_ _I believe Madara should be king." Izuna stated, knowing of the deepest desire of his older brother's dreams. "Us, Uchiha will vote for him. You, Senju shall vote for yourselves. This means, that we have Himeko-sama's family, the Shimura and the Hyuuga to make the decision."_

 _"_ _The Namikaze will side with us because of the marriage." Tobirama furthered the thought, his chin resting upon the back of his hand. "The Shimura will support you, Izuna. Which means the Hyuuga will have the final word."_

 _"_ _Oh-okay…I-I will…I will ask father about it." Yona nodded in acceptance of the proposal, her heart rapid like rushing gazelles from the predator's claws. She well knew about the verdict, which did not half please her; she was the only one of the Hyuuga trusting and loving an Uchiha._

 _The discrepancy between their cultures and traditions were too grave, and sometimes these differences could not be settled peacefully. But she would try, she would most certainly try and convince her father of placing his faith in the Dark Warrior._

 _The discussion suited Madara's taste more than anything before. With his anger mitigated, he offered a pleased smile to the people around him. "When shall we have the voting?"_

 _"_ _We could have a week to decide." Hashirama proposed on a friendly tone._

 _"_ _That is good enough for me. In a week, the same day and same hour, shall we?" His friend nodded and at length rose from the table._

 _"_ _Yes." Tobirama added._

 _At last, they agreed that no opportunity could be more favorable than the date given for carrying their idea into effect, as an attempt at such a moment would never be anticipated again, of great family pride, and all alive with an exaggerated sense of honor._

 ** _A few hours later…_**

 _Returning home to his bedchamber, much intoxicated from the discussion earlier, Madara fell upon the sheets of the futon with a long, content sigh drawn from his lungs. He could not believe his ears; the time has finally come to become a leader._ _It is inconceivable how rich a sentiment of satisfaction arose in his bosom as he reflected upon his absolute security._ _The Hyuuga would choose him; there was no doubt about it._

 _There came a sudden alteration of mood that enveloped his spirit for several days. With resplendent eyes he greeted those he met, the extravagance of his character gradually ceased and he descanted over matters previously trivial to him. He longed, with an earnest and consuming desire for the title of a king, for he believed the name Uchiha must be exalted again._

 _The last night arrived, and with its shadows a heavy discomfort. It oppressed his limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. Thereby uneasy, he spent the night in contemplation._

 ** _On the day of the voting…_**

 _It was early when Hashirama was called. He was still vesting himself when the leader of the Hyuuga pleaded urgent business and was shown into his bedroom by an old servant of the Senju family. He remained in attendance during the visit and opened the door to the warrior._

 _Albeit he possessed warm features, Hashirama's presence was singularly commanding. There was an air distingue that pervaded the whole man, which spoke of high breeding, and hinted at high birth._

 _Nothing could be more richly flowing, or possessed a brighter gloss than his hair, which was of a deep maroon._ _Also, there were the most entirely even, and the most brilliantly white of all conceivable teeth. From among them, upon every proper occasion of utterance, issued a voice of surpassing clearness, melody, and kindness. In the matter of eyes, they were of a deep hazel, exotically large and lustrous._

 _"_ _I am sorry to bother you at such early time of the day." Byakuya bowed and Hashirama returned the polite gesture._

 _"_ _Is something wrong, Lord Byakuya?"_

 _"_ _It is about today's decision. I needed to talk to you first."_

 _"_ _Of course…Please seat yourself." He spoke and gestured at the sofa whilst he finished with the task of dressing._

 _"_ _My daughter has been very fierce about the support of that Uchiha, Madara. I need to know if there is a particular reason of her sudden zeal, because between us, she has never really been a woman of such enthusiasm."_

 _"_ _Madara is my closest friend, Lord Byakuya. I assure you that he would not be any less fitting for the title than I am. We can bet, if you wish."_

 _"_ _I do not see a reason why he would be trusted. The Uchiha is an intemperate, hot-blooded, cursed clan. Many of them sided with the Evil Goddess and excelled in cruelty."_

 _"_ _But they are also men of wealth, and of high connection." Hashirama added, as he too sat down. The throne meant more to Madara than it meant to him, and thus he was willing to persuade the lord about choosing his friend instead of him. "He is especial favorite, too, with the ladies…"_

 _Upon that thought, he rapidly corrected himself before misunderstandings were to rise. "I mean, chiefly on account of his high reputation for courage. In that point he is unrivalled, a perfect fire-eater, and no mistake," furthered Hashirama, here dropping his voice excessively low, for the sole reason to thrill Lord Byakuya with the mystery of his tone, "Never once he lost a battle."_

 _"_ _Hashirama-sama. There is one thing you should know." However, the delightfully luminous conversation with the lord soon completely dissipated in chagrin as he spoke. "We only supported the Uchiha to avoid confrontation. Our main purpose has always been to rise as high as possible. And if that is not possible, to have someone lead who we trust. If kingdom we shall have, the best option would be to eliminate or at least exclude that clan from our History. They are dangerous, and unstable. This place needs stability. It strives for it. Would you truly put someone like them on the throne?"_

 _"_ _No…" Hashirama sighed as he uttered that single syllable. "Your daughter proposed this idea of kingship at the meeting previously, because you had already planned this out, had you not?"_

 _"_ _I had. It is easy to control Yona. The Senju have always stood by our side and we never had to question each other's loyalty. Meanwhile the Uchiha…They are nuisance; their hatred is contagious like plague."_

 _"_ _I need to ask something, Lord Byakuya. If it is true, we shall not consider each other allies, ever again." The hesitation within his spirit was too severe to detain him from betraying his friend. "Is Yona a puppet to gain information about Madara?"_

 _"_ _What do you mean?"_

 _"_ _Madara is most helplessly in love with Yona. Your daughter loves him just as arduously. Was that also a trick of yours?"_

 _"_ _I did not know of it." There came a rapid alteration of features upon the lord's face when disgust and fury manifested themselves upon his body. He shook with anger and his white, pallid eyes burnt with pale flames._

 _Notwithstanding the vigorous sensations, he did not lose control, and upon second thought, he gathered his ordinary dull behavior and added. "Thank you for telling me that. And thank you for showing how loyal you are to those I cannot even consider human. It only proves how dedicated you will be to your people."_

 _There was no help for it, so Hashirama, at length submitted with a good grace, and listened, in all the martyrdom of dignified silence, to the closing of that very capital discourse._

 ** _After a few hours…_**

 _"_ _There are no people I more heartily despise than you, eccentric fools who prate about ruling without understanding it! Attending strictly to its letter, and violating its true spirit! You are but a bunch of ignoramus, who have but the slightest of idea what it means to be a king!" Madara fumed and with venomous words spat, he made haste from the chamber, as he could not bear to look at the traitors in front of him._

 _"_ _Ma-Madara-sama, please wait!"_ _Yona rushed after him without second thoughts halting her._

 _His trepidation was uncontrollable, the intemperate rage that curdled the rich flowing blood within the veins; at length he_ _suffered himself to use intemperate language to his beloved and even offered her personal violence as he grabbed her by the neck_. _"You ruined this for me! I thought I could trust you!" He roared like thunder within a stark, brooding night._

 _"_ _Let her go, or Izuna will lose his only brother."_

 _Tobirama's blade pierced the Uchiha's cheek as he stood a few steps away from the beast. His aim was infallible and nonetheless lethal if he decided on sinking the sword past the pallid flesh of the insane. "Your accusation could not be more erroneous."_

 _The Uchiha's fingers loosened around the slender neck and let go of the Hyuuga heiress. Sudden, and stern turbulences of remorse afflicted his spirit as he beheld the sight of his beloved; she trembled like a leaf on a cold autumn day, deplorable in vision. He was injudicious in causing pain to her, again. "Who betrayed me then?"_

 _"_ _Nobody did. You are simply not the right choice." Tobirama replied coldly._

 _"_ _This is far from over!" Madara's threat seemed idle in that moment, when nobody took notice of the depths of his disappointment. Only her._

 _Quietly she watched the man she loved haste from the scene with invisible flames engulfing him. Rage mantled his skin and gloom rose around the place._

 _"_ _How can you love him?" Tobirama asked upon curiosity driven mind whilst he stood beside the young woman whose eyes were riveted at the direction of Madara._

 _"_ _He is a lovable person, Tobirama-sama. He is just… complicated." She sighed._

 _"_ _He is unstable, selfish, and brutal."_

 _"_ _Ma-Madara-sama is ju-…He is just trying to find his place."_

 _"_ _Forgive me for my boldness, but does he do this to you as a habit? Has he hurt you already?"_

 _"_ _Tobirama-sama…" Slowly, Yona traveled her lustrous gaze at the silver-crowned man. "Ma-Madara-sama's love is greater than you think. And I love him too, that I would die for him any time. Whatever he may do, is not the cause of his will, it is a vice of him. He will become a good king once, if he remembers to hold onto love, instead of pain."_

 _"_ _Hm…" With a frown, he did not enter into an argument, for he did not find the proper words to speak._

 _"_ _I only hope our children won't have the same fate as we do." She added as slowly her gaze returned to the air._

 _"_ _What do you mean?"_

 _"_ _I noticed the way you look at Himeko-sama. Our hearts beat for people we should not look at, yet day and night, we dream of them. We find comfort in the smallest of their touch, and a single smile will brighten up even our darkest of moments."_

 _"_ _How did you…?"_

 _"_ _Your secret is safe with me. I….I am not good with confrontations…But you are. Thus, I advise you to talk to your brother and tell him how you feel. He will understand. My father…He never would…I am too afraid to speak."_

 _"_ _Yona…"_

 _She turned to face him, and in that instant, her pale lavender eyes lit up with glee and loveliness. "But if this war is to come onto us, we will fight and I won't be an heiress anymore. And if that is so, I will be free! Please, Tobirama-sama, pray for my happiness. And I will pray for yours."_

 _"_ _I promise, Yona." The Senju nodded._

 ** _A few moments later…_**

 _Madara rested in a state of half-swoon when his dear beloved approached the bed upon which he lay outstretched, and she sat gently by his side. He breathed odor from her sweet lips, as she pressed them upon his chin, his lips and his brow, and there love arose tremulously within his chest, and mingled with the merely physical sensations she offered. "I am sorry…" The warrior whispered as at length he opened his eyes to indulge his existence in the sweet sight of her._

 _"_ _It is all right." Her slim fingers rested on his face and caressed his pale visage soothingly. "You will become king, Madara. I know it." She whispered on a soft, aerial tone and blushed deep when the man's arms pulled her down beside him. She rested comfortably in his arms, and filled her lungs with his scent._

 _"_ _Will you be by my side when I become king?"_

 _"_ _Of course…" She nodded in the positive and her words were awarded with a kiss upon her forehead._

 _"_ _Will you bear me children when I become king?" With a forward smirk, he observed the rapidly reddening features of his beloved, the singular sight of her amusing his dark heart._

 _"_ _Ma-Madara-sama!" She gasped in bafflement and hid her face in the garments upon his chest._

 _"_ _Will you?"_

 _"_ _I will." She replied with confiding affection, and looked back up onto his faultless face. "Whe-whenever you want."_

 _Upon those words, Madara smiled. That smile spread over his visage and warmed up the darkest pits of his heart where no light has reached before. He then consoled himself with the reflection that the tide of ill luck would not run against him forever, that good was yet to come, and the loss, and pain and sufferings had an end._

 ** _11 years after… (6 years before present time)_**

 _But on one winter evening, when the winds lay still in heaven, she called him to her bedside. There was a dim mist over all the earth, and brooding glow upon the waters, and amidst the dead December leaves of the forest, tears of Nature had surely fallen._

 _For years, he lingered by her side, and dwelled upon the music of her voice when peace was far to reach, until one day, upon that remarkable cold winter night, its sweet melody was first tainted with terror, and there fell a shadow upon his soul, and he grew pale, and shuddered inwardly at those hollow, unearthly tones. And thus, joy suddenly faded into horror, and the most beautiful became the most hideous truth; she was dying._

 _He pleaded Gods for help and murdered physicians who refused to aid. The sentence had passed; she was poisoned by her own clan. Her skin bore the shades of cadaverousness, her lips purple and shrunken. The expectoration was excessive and her soft pulse was barely perceptible._

 _She retained, nevertheless, in a very remarkable manner, both her mental power and a certain degree of physical strength, for she knew she had no choice but to fight; within her was a pledge of the purest of affection, the promise she once made. And when her spirit departed, shall their child live._

 _It wanted about five minutes of eleven when, taking her hand, Madara begged her to state, as distinctly as she could whatever she needed. A male and a female nurse were in attendance whilst he knew he had not a moment to lose, as she was evidently sinking fast._

 _Sh_ _e replied feebly, yet quite audibly. "Ma-Madara-sama….N-name…name her Hinata."_

 _"_ _I will, I will My Love." He nodded with his tears flowing. His days were to be the days of sorrow, which is the most lasting of impressions, as the cypress is the most enduring of trees. When the hours of his happiness were over, and as joy was not gathered twice in a life, pain would become the sole sojourner of his heart._ _Here on, the heaven of their love became darkened, and gloom, horror, and grief swept over it in clouds._

 _And suddenly, these strains diminished in distinctness and in volume. Finally, they ceased. Her perfume in his nostrils died away. Her struggles affected his vision no longer. The oppression of the Darkness descended itself into his chest, and a dull shock, like that of electricity pervaded his frame, and was followed by total loss of the idea of contact. She was no more. Yona was no more._

 _Yet, their child, to whom in dying she had given birth, which did not breathe until the mother breathed no more, her child, her daughter, she lived. Hinata grew in stature and intellect, and was the perfect resemblance of her who had departed, and Madara loved her with a love more fervent than he had believed it possible to feel for any resident of Earth._

 _As years rolled away, and he gazed time after time upon her holy, and mild, and eloquent face, immeasurable pain and sorrow mingled within his spirit. The cruelty of life was that he never once could hold her. He could only watch her from afar, but he did nonetheless._

 _She grew amidst the walls of the Hyuuga Residence, bore their name and learned their teachings. The person she called father was Lord Hiashi, whom she adored and so Madara despised him even more._

 _Irksome years have passed away, but the memory of that epoch never. And thus, days prolonged to months and months grew larger until his tortured nerves obtained the mastery over his mind, and he grew furious through the ungovernable gloom, and, with a fiendish heart, he cursed the days and the hours and the bitter moments, which seemed to lengthen and lengthen after her gentle life had declined, like shadows in the dying of the day._

 _He could no longer bear the touch of soft fingers, or the low tone of a musical language, nor the lustre of melancholic eyes and thus the void within his heart refused, even to be filled. At last, instead of love for another woman, the morbid perversion of bloodlust manifested itself in his ribcage. He must not only punish, but punish with impunity._

 ** _Present day…_**

"And from that day on, neither by word nor deed had I given Hashirama cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my habit, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the taste of his immolation. He always had a weak point, although in other regards he has been a man to be respected and even feared, but he was too kind to notice the unholy schemes of evil schemers."

"I never understood the rules of the Hyuugas." By this time Itachi was bathing his eyes in the sight of the stark darkness that opened to them from the open window. He stood beside Madara, with elbows upon the windowsill.

"They wanted me to watch her die. They wanted to punish both of us. We never gave up on each other. For 12 years, I loved only her and she loved only me. That bastard Hiashi could never touch her because I simply never let him. Kageroza did not like seeing his impotent son rise to the leadership of the Hyuuga, unable to bed his wife."

Madara chuckled bitterly and resumed. "Whilst the Senju made the same mistake, and got away with it. Only because one of them is a king, they got away with it. Tomorrow, Itachi…I will make sure to give them what they deserve. I will take my rightful place and watch them bow in front of us."

"And Lady Tsunade?"

"I need that wench. I want the dragon. I want its power. After that, you can do whatever you want with her. She could not arouse me even if I was drunk. The rules are the rules though. I will make sure she won't forget that." He added mischievously.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

"Are you asleep?" Tsunade whispered ever so cautiously, while amidst the long lashes she gazed upon the samurai beside her.

He made no answer, but she could perceive a faint tremor about the lips, and she was thus induced to repeat the question, repeatedly. At its third repetition, his whole frame was agitated by a very slight shivering; the eyelids unclosed themselves so far as to display his deep stark eyes and the finely sculpted lips moved sluggishly, and from between them, in a barely audible whisper, he issued some words. "Not anymore."

Before he could have scolded her, he too perceived the reason of her unmitigated character; visible drops wetted her eyes, which she fought to hide with tireless wiping of her fingers. "What is it?" No kinder words could be emitted from his numbed mind, which he instantly regretted upon feeling her move away.

With a slight frown and guilt-stained spirit, his arm reached out for the petite frame and guided it right back into his embrace. "Is it nightmares, Tsuna?"

"No…" She murmured but spoke no more. Her eyes grew resplendent in anxiety whilst she struggled to express the content of her heart, such action alien to both of them.

"Is it about tomorrow?" Kakashi kept guessing, eager to solve the pain of her troubled spirit. He came to the realization of the fact how dearly he disliked the agitated state of the heiress, and thus something had to be done.

"It's just…" She drew a long, deep sigh and shut her eyes before her lips parted to speak. Presumably, the reason of closing out the world was to revert to a state of usual courage, with which she could confess. "I am scared."

"People get scared, Tsuna. That is normal." He replied with a soothing kiss upon her forehead.

"Do you…Do you get scared, Kakashi?" Slowly she opened her eyes and looked back up at the samurai. "A few weeks ago…I thought life was about fancy dresses and dull classes to attend. I never knew what was out there. I didn't know what I was. It is… Everything is so…"

"Chaotic?"

She nodded in the affirmative.

"Tsuna... Life is a little rough but we do what we have to. It has really nice moments sometimes, and for those it is worthy to keep living. It may never get any easier for you, but you are a very peculiar woman, and will find the way to be happy."

"In the Palace, it seems like everyone lives in a prison of their own mind…The only people who knew what the world was, are now dead. What if I lose my Uncle? He is my only relative! What will I do? I cannot lose more people, Kakashi. I don't know how to protect people. I am a danger to everyone already. This is so messed up. I can't believe I am telling you this. I never tell these things. I need to stop crying, I am ridiculous! You must surely think I am insane." She shook into a frantic cry upon struggling to choke the tears that grew incessant by that moment.

The soul-upheaving thoughts did not cease, and merely aggravated her agitated spirit, of which Kakashi seemed by no means unaware; her agony was not unfamiliar to him, and thus he kept his arms folded around her and rubbed her back soothingly. He mused upon the fact that the first person living the same pandemonium he was was in fact a dragon in a body of a princess. Life could be truly ironic; he smiled.

"Tsuna, listen, you won't fight this battle alone. You have to make sure to live, and each of us has to do the same. The rest depends on the will of Fate. Eventually, we all get what we deserve. Madara's cruelty will not last forever. But to see that, you must endure. Do you understand?"

She nodded. For a brief moment there fell upon them silence of the most peaceful nature, and by degrees her tears began to dry up. "Kakashi…"

"Hm?" He glanced down as he awaited her words.

"Are you happy?"

"No. I am not, Tsuna." He responded with a faint smile.

She did not like his reply, in fact, it saddened her. The heiress was not completely aware of the circumstances in which the warrior was, thus she could only do little to change the unsatisfying state of the man. Her fingers reached up to his face, and with tender strokes, she brushed and massaged the silver scalp.

"Will you do this every time I'm unhappy?" Kakashi chuckled as he reclosed his eyes to relish the sensation he was given.

"If you insist." She offered a smile and moved her body upwards only to plant a kiss on the tip of his nose, which she found irresistibly perfect in curvature. He was a work of divine hands; there could be no error about it.

"Tsuna…"

"Yes, Kakashi?"

There was a short hesitation in his voice before at length he spoke, albeit not the words originally resting within his mind. "Try and sleep. We have to wake up soon. And I think I am hungover."

"Oh okay…I apologize." She replied and slipped back in her original position, and wrapped her arm over his. "Thank you…"

* * *

 _ **Authoresse's Note: I do not own Kageroza or Byakuya. Thank you Beyonce for the song Halo which I had listened over 8 hours to compose this chapter. I hope you liked it just as much as I did writing it.**_


	10. The Hour of Judgement

_**The only objects of practical reason are therefore those of good and evil.-Kant**_

* * *

Detestable hours elapsed, day at length came, and the iridescent phosphorescence of low clouds gave place to the misty twilight of the eastern world. Vile birds winged menacingly through the cold and silence. Only those remote and impassable peaks, which erected in a distance eyes could not possibly measure, could give any sense of direction, and even they were less clear as the grey twilight waned and the sickly glint of the clouds took its place.

Before the sun could sit upon its throne on the irksome vaults of heaven, the heiress had already found her way back to the Palace, and sat in quiet torpor upon the velvet couch of her room. She awaited for the things unimaginable with a heart afflicted, yet eyes not once deprived from sentience. Her joy now was joy no more, and fear thrilled her whilst she watched the sullen changes of the daylight through the dingy window.

There was a demoniac alteration in the sequence of the hours. The sun's heat lingered fearsomely, and everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods to forces that appertained to other gods or forces, which were yet unknown.

She trembled at the thought of pandemonium and gripped the silver pendant of the necklace that softly caressed the skin of her bosom. Upon that action, with a rush, ineradicable pictures of the night returned to her memory and thus a faint blush mantled her pale cheeks.

For a brief moment, her joy returned and fear was fear no more but the recollections of all that was beautiful. She smiled from her heart while her majestically slanted eyes lingered onto her grip. Slowly, her fingers parted and her gaze met the silver pendant that rested within the palm. Never once she received a gift from a man, other than the King, thus such gesture animated dearly her afflicted spirit. She promised _him_ that she would take good care of it, and _he_ promised that he would always find her.

Suddenly, came to her perception some strange rustling of the worn, dirty draperies at the one dingy window, but upon second thought, the idea furthered into one horrible image that someone in the room had gritted his teeth and drawn a very sharp breath. Cold chilled her skin and marble hue shrouded her visage as she, at length rose from the crimson couch and turned slowly around. There was no mistake; she was not alone.

"You look awfully ordinary in this dress. Are you purposely wishing to embarrass me in public?" Spoke he with audacity, as he emerged from a smoke of fright and detestation and stepped into the faint light of the morning sun.

"I am not marrying you, Lord Madara." She replied presently and straightened her posture upon uttering those simple words. Her hand slowly fell back beside her as she let go of the pendant. Her faultless face evinced no emotion, as she stood in front of him like the finest sculpture of Greek craftsmanship.

"Do you honestly believe that it is an option for you?" Madara uplifted his eyes in a leisure movement as he glanced at the young maiden in front of him. Before she could have opened her mouth to reply he stopped but inches away from her, choking the words within her throat. "You have no word in this matter." He added and anchored his fingers amid the silky threads of her golden crown.

"I slept with someone. You cannot marry me." It was at this point she noticed a cessation in the regular, monotonous strokes of his fingers. Cautiously, Tsunade glanced upwards at the General's face to investigate the truth behind the pale skin; he was a man hard to read, and most often one would mistake the stillness of his demeanor and do not assume the pandemonium within his spirit.

At first, Madara could only chuckle. "Do you even know what that means, Tsunade?" Said he sardonically, yet upon the visible sternness of the heiress, he added, vexed. "I believe I heard you wrong." His tone thickened with blooming rage as he provoked affirmance from her; albeit expressionless, his eyes burnt with blazing effulgence of fury. "Say it again." Forthwith, Madara commanded with loathsome superiority whilst his grip held the soft curls menacingly.

Tsunade winced upon her failed attempt to pull away from the General. Nonetheless, she did as she was told. "I said, I slept with someone. You have no right to become a king anymore."

For a brief moment of agitating quietude, he spoke nothing, for words could not fully describe the indescribable. The fist in her hair tightened and forcefully drew her sweet face closer to him; hitherto as if a devastating stroke of lightning, the demon's hand landed on her cheek.

He did not raise his voice. Even when anger mantled his skin and turned flaming red, his demeanor never once betrayed him. In fact, such trait added to his peculiar character even more and at certain point, his brutality could be considered somewhat charming. "Do you know what makes me so damn upset? When little, dumb, and annoying things like you want to rough me up."

He ejaculated on a blood-chilling voice whilst his eyes bathed in the sight of the young, groveling woman in front of him. "Things could have changed peacefully, but you just had to do something about it, hadn't you? You Senju are all damn stupid, running to your deaths so boldly."

Before he could have pulled his sword out of its sheath, she proved faster than he did; Tsunade reached for a letter opener upon the desk closest to her and rose back up on her feet. The object seemed sufficiently well adapted to its new purpose and thus she managed to stall the man's strikes.

She held the blade even, on horizon, the very same way she was taught by her master, Lord Hiruzen. She wielded the short weapon and attacked the General with a perfect aim. He countered the first clash of swords and with a widening smirk, he watched the letter opener shiver beneath the strength of his katana.

Tsunade narrowed her eyes in frustration, whilst tirelessly escaping from the mad blows of unspeakable speed. Her agility amazed and amused the evil lord who took grave pleasure in the swordfight. The picture of weapons clashing, bodies turning and rushing was very vivid for a while, but gradually gave way to a more horrible conception; abruptly, the lord was no more.

Whatever stood in front of the heiress was human no more. The foulest nightmares of secret myths could not have awakened a sight as Madara was. Her footfalls shivered upon the wooden ground as she recoiled, the large hazel eyes wide in terror. The letter opener, by degrees fell from her grip, and little by little the blood curdled in her veins, and shock-stricken she stood, frozen, hypnotized with horror.

He must have been amused by the start of horror she gave, as watching the petite frame bewitched by fright, for his head wabbled violently when fear showed upon her sweet visage. Subsequently he spoke very gently as how human beings might accomplish, while human he was not anymore. "I shall take what is mine, and with that, I shall take all the power you do not deserve to possess, dragon."

At last, she had become visually familiar with the incredible secret concealed by his form; he was the hideously conventionalised figure of a tiger. The expression on its stark features was repellent in the extreme, savouring at once of death, bestiality, and malevolence. It was the morbid perversion of all that blasphemous, all that malign.

Alien it was to all science, the tall, stout body rapidly altered into one gigantic hound whose skin was covered in blood and shreds of alien flesh and hair, and leered sentiently at her with shrunken sockets and sharp ensanguined fangs yawning twistedly in mockery of her inevitable doom. "You are going to die, now." He gave from those grinning jaws a deep, sardonic bay and struck violently at her.

If only she had known how to summon those godly powers instead of calling for them through instinct and waiting for a change to materialize while instinct screamed her to run. Before she could have moved any inch of her body, and could have made haste from the chamber, the black demon shrouded the trembling body in one deadly embrace.

The horrible, sharp, salivating mouth opened, yellow fangs rattled and a hollow scream urged its way through the victim's throat. She cried and pounded at the stark chest convulsively, whilst held in the gory, filthy claws of the unwholesome demon.

"If you keep moving, it will only hurt more." The beast growled against the mangled throat and at last, gradually, she gave in.

The combined shock of the sight and the abrupt command gave her a kind of paralysis, and in her terror, her mind again opened to the impressions of hellish visions. She gasped and cried breathlessly and the pounding on the chest ceased, and strength deserted her. Inelucatbly, as the crimson essence of life oozed from her bleaching veins, she passed into that of an absolute solitude in infinite, sightless, soundless space.

Tsunade dropped onto the ground with a thud of a potato sack. Slow strokes of air escaped through her lungs, as she struggled to breathe one last time. The violet veins whitened, the large orbs shrunk, and glowed uncannily as she forced the ghastly lids to blink. As if added to this, her hands grew tremulous and twitched with the body still convulsing.

The brain rapidly fading, once more became tinged with a certain hellish familiarity of the scene, and the victim kept straining her eyes and racking her memory for clues to where she had seen such creature before, when she had felt such pain.

It was not the recollections of her young years, but the desperate mementos of the dragon within her. The heiress, in that moment, understood its pain and despair, for the immortal was cursed to bear the fate of a mortal body. She let them both die, she was not strong enough.

"I'm full." Madara sighed upon regaining his ordinary form, which called no attention, apart from the ordinary sighs of young maidens'. "Tell Tobirama I said hi. Soon, I am sending the last idiot to rot with you under the ground." He kicked the soft body away and fixing his vestiture, the elegant lord vanished from the chamber. As he promised so, he had one more task to do.

The blurred outlines of the room rapidly faded into unrecognizable shapes and clouds. A quick step came upon her ears, and a loud sound now succeeded. Involuntarily she shivered, the body disconnected from the brain. She still anticipated a second disturbance of the stillness, where only the slowing beats of the heart could be noticed.

With a voice choking in emotion and incoherent words, she moaned quietly when at last her senses were enflamed by perception of touch. She was touched, what is more, she noticed her body being lifted up. She was held, she could yet feel that much. Then came the parting of the lips, the sensation of something soft, drops of something sweet yet unfamiliar to her taste.

"Just go, I will take care of her." There was a reluctant pause and the voice was heard again, its speaker was in no placid temper. "I said go, 'Kashi, she will make it from here!"

The warm liquid of strange, metallic taste ceased and her throat grew dry. The comfort of her savior's embrace was no more, and the cold ground welcomed her body once again. She struggled to open her eyes, to seek the sight of the one saving her. In that moment, her consciousness eclipsed in swoon and darkness descended on her.

 _ **Meanwhile...**_

The general tension has been horrible for weeks. Everyone knew it was a time of political and social upheaval, to which was added a strange and brooding apprehension of hideous physical danger. A danger widespread and all embracing, such a danger as may be imagined only in the most terrible phantasms of the night.

For days now, as if sensing the doom within the cold air, people on the streets went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies, which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to themselves as they had heard it.

Having perceived at last the hollowness and futility of things he could have done for both his family and nation, Hashirama spent his last days in quiet retirement, and in wistful disjointed memories of his dream-filled youth.

Throwing himself upon a chair, he remained for some time absorbed in meditation. His reflections, be sure, were of no consolatory kind. A thousand vague and lachrymatory fancies took possession of his soul and even the idea of suicide flitted across his brain; but it is a trait in the perversity of human nature to reject the obvious and the ready, for the equivocal.

Thus, he shuddered at self-murder as the most decided of atrocities, for death indeed awaited, but in a different way. Oppressed with a tumult of vague hopes and fears, there at length, from not so far, came noises, at first muffled and broken, like the sobbing of a woman, and then quickly swelling into one long, loud, and continuous scream, utterly anomalous and inhuman a wailing shriek, half of horror and another half of triumph, such as might have arisen only out of hell, conjointly from the throat of the dammed in their agony and of the demon that exulted in the damnation.

He looked impatiently around the richly decorated room with the crimson carpet and exposed beams and corner posts, and sighed. The reverberations of a disquieting wail ceased and complete stillness pervaded the room. As if aware of the nightmare outside, and now recovering from his guilt-tinted astonishment, he advanced and laid a hand around the bottle of sake. "This is the last time for you, old man." He smiled with a heavy heart.

Quick yet measured footfalls were suddenly heard upon the marble staircase and a loud knock at the wooden doors rapidly succeeded. He did not haste from the spot he stood, in fact, he patiently awaited for the intruder to welcome himself in the royal chamber. He could recognize those steps from afar, the thought filling him with sweet bitterness.

All those memories, all those dreams and wishes of a world they could never reach. "Madara, brother." Said Hashirama with the smile remained upon his fatigued features and slowly he turned to greet his friend. "Shan't you be preparing for the wedding?"

"There have been some changes in the plan." The General spoke demurely and added as he stepped closer, his features by no means suspicious to mere human eyes. "The heiress did not feel good; I believe we shall wait until she recovers."

"Of course." Hashirama nodded and filled two glasses with the bewitching liquid.

"We are drinking, already?" Madara asked as he approached the King, his stark gaze riveted at the man in front of him. The calmness in his voice vexed him.

"I want sake…Good old-fashioned nepenthe!" Exclaimed Hashirama enthusiastically. "I will tell you, I'm good and tired of water after remembering the merry wars we used to fight in the old days. I cannot recall a memento of those glorious days without watering at the mouth, and it's something a lot stronger than water that my mouth waters for!" Hashirama laughed and upon that false trepidation, he handed Madara one of the glasses.

The General took the strong refreshment but did not drink from goblet; instead, he watched patiently the King who took the first sip from the full chalice.

The monotonous whine of blasphemous flutes came to the King's ears and he opened his mouth to speak, with a never-ending smile softening his warm portraiture. "I can still hear it, the music of bloodshed. Just like 15 years ago." He could not help imagining that the glorious, the voluptuous, the never-dying melodies which pervaded that chamber, as they passed filtered and transmuted through the alchemy of the window-panes, the wailings and the howling of the hopeless and of the damned.

"Are you aware of the doom prepared for you, my friend?" Madara spoke and slowly put down the glass of long poisoned nepenthe. There is no passion in nature so demoniacally impatient, as that of him who thrived for the end of one's life and the beginning of another's, his very own.

There was simply no need to pretend anymore, since the King seemed more than aware of the circumstances he was in; by this time, the village had became a battleground where the Uchiha fought against everyone who denied the rising of the clan and of its leader. Warnings and prophecies, which no one dared consciously repeat, were now screamed in terror and the orchestra of Death played abundantly in the early hours of the day.

"My friend…" Hashirama began with a soft sigh drawn from the back of his throat. "I have been expecting this day to come." He smiled and downed the drink at one gulp. "I hoped, naively, that giving you my dear Tsunade's hand, you could find some peace in the present. This is not the right time for you, Madara. You are too hurt, still. The past is yet too vivid." He spoke to the murderer for whom he bore a fondness since their infancy.

Inelucatbly, Hashirama was growing sick. Sick unto death with that long elapsing agony. He felt that his senses were leaving him as the men stood within the quietude. The sentence… The dread sentence of death had passed and all was read in the eyes of the General. Death. Death was at the doorstep and the large, sinister scythe flitted across his head. He would not die in dignity, it was not the fate bestowed upon him.

As he pondered, there grew into palpability, a shape, far more terrible than any genius or any demon of a tale, and yet it was but a thought, although a fearful one, and one which chilled the very marrow of his bones with the fierceness of the delight of its horror. It was merely the idea of what would be the sensation during the penetration of a sharp edged katana through the flesh, muscles and across the heart. But that was not the fate bestowed upon him. He was to perish by poison, in a quick yet, horribly painful torment.

"After all, you weren't as blind as you seemed. I wonder what made you play by my rules." Madara put down the glass and lifted his eyes back at Hashirama as at length the silence was broken.

"I cherish you more, than to be standing in your way, brother. Besides…" Hashirama too placed his own goblet upon the golden table and took a deep breath before he returned to speaking. "If I had done so, you would have hurt more people than you already had."

"…Cherish, you say?" Madara chuckled, embittered by the sound of the King's voice as he wasted no time and grabbed at the Royal garment. "Your love extended only to one brother, Tobirama! And so did mine, to Izuna!"

"Madara, my friend…You don't know everything about Izuna's death. There are so many things you do not know. Things I made sure to be kept hidden, for your _safety_."

The expression on the General's face, a face ghastly enough in repose, was beyond description as he listened to the man in front of him.

"If I only had more time…If I only had the strength to tell you…I am sorry I failed you too. I certainly failed everyone I loved." He sighed. Instantaneous and dreadful sickness seized him, a burning thirst that consumed him and his throat grew hollow. The body began to tremble convulsively in every fiber and the sight rapidly blurred. "Why, Ma-Madara?" At length there seemed to pass a violent and sudden shock through his soul, as if of electricity. The words came with the flood of crimson blood that poured through the parted mouth and slowed amidst the teeth.

The agony of suspense grew at length intolerable and he shouted at the man in his grip. "Can you see it? Can you see it? Can you see the past float and flop about you and through you every moment of your life? Can you see the dead what men call the pure air and the blue sky? Have we not succeeded in breaking down the barrier between life and death; have we not seen worlds that no other living men have seen as we battled through the years?"

Hashirama heard him scream through the horrible chaos, and looked at the wild face that thrust so offensively close to his. His eyes were pits of flame, and they glared at him with what he now saw was overwhelming hatred. "You tried to stop me! You discouraged me when I needed every drop of encouragement I could get! You were afraid of the truth, you damned coward, but now I've got you! I will show what this world needs! I will purify it from your kind! All I feel for you is hatred, Hashirama! I have despised you and your family ever since we first encountered!"

Madara's venomous words repelled him horribly, and revolted all his inherited delicacy; but his determination to stick to his life remained with him, and he maintained a bold front and a warm smile. "Madara…Once you will learn the truth…And then you w-will…wi-will know, I was the wa-one by your side. I am so-sorry, it has co-come to this… But I ca-cannot let you win…"

"How will you stop me, huh? How? I have killed every damned one of you! You have no one! Your clan is no more!" Madara shook the dying invalid in his grip and threw him on the ground forcefully. His heart enflamed, he reached down for the King and brought him back to his fist, for the sole reason to watch the once fine features shrunk into lifelessness. "Answer me, bastard!" Upon roaring, he stood upon tiptoe, and seized the King by the throat, and placed his mouth close to his ear.

Finally the tension grew almost unbearable, and this almost made him lose his hold through faintness, but a moment later he was himself again and so he managed to utter a few words, as if not a complete sentence. "My po-powers…The sword…I-I sealed them in-…"

He was preparing to launch forth a new and more decided epithet of fulmination, which should not fail, if ejaculated, to convince the King of his insignificance, when to his extreme horror and astonishment he discovered that he had lost his breath.

To remedy the state he was in, the General's hand fell upon the sheath and pulled out the weapon, only to find it in its ordinary state, devoid of the immortal power once possessing. In that instant, a consciousness of the entire and terrible truth flashed suddenly over his soul.

"You merged them..." Madara's fist clenched as he held him by the edge of his collar. His Sharingan awoke in the deep stark orbs and despair mantled his aristocratic visage. It was upon that moment when he realized he had been tricked. "Your powers…Where are your powers?! Who has the Senju's technique? Who has the dragon's magic?"

"Good bye,… dear brother…"

The Uchiha lord shook the King, endeavored to arouse the sleeper to a sense of the startling intelligence. But Hashirama's limbs grew rigid, his fine lips were livid, his lately beaming eyes were riveted in death. The last Senju king died with a candid curling of mouth, and the lifeless body rested in the arms of his murderer.

In youth, Madara had felt the hidden beauty and ecstasy of things, and had been an artist of wars; but loss and sorrow and exile had turned his gaze in darker directions, and he had thrilled at the imputations of evil in the world around.

After little but two decades, daily life had for him come to be a phantasmagoria of macabre shadow studies; the knowledge for revenge and for power and so he grew lost on the path of life and thus grips loosened and holding hands parted, and those accompanying him towards the light slowly faded with the darkness that embraced the scarred soul.

The room became pandemonium, and his soul screamed and howled in fright at the fate he had aroused. Madara seemed dazed in the confusion, and shrank to the wall with the corpse in his arms. The chamber grew quiet once more. He gazed long and searchingly at the figure in his arms, noting its coldness, and the aristocratic cast of features, which seemed to appear now that the wretched flame of life had flickered out.

"You did the right thing, my lord." Orochimaru spoke as he appeared in front of the two and bowed deeply. Upon rising back in straight posture, he gathered the raven locks behind his ears thus revealing the richly ensanguined vestiture.

"Have you succeeded?" Madara asked in quiet contemplation.

"The village is now under your control. Your coronation shall take place tonight, here in the Palace. The servants have already begun the preparations." The pale demon offered a macabre smile to his leader.

Soon, the guilt-tainted soul was once again ablaze with the vision of glory. Upon conviction, he rose from the ground and dropped the corpse beside his feet. "How about my daughter?" The General's eyes flickered in nervous trepidation and the somnolent beating of his heart grew mad with anxiety. He would see his Hinata again.

"She is in the Hall until the former heiress' room is cleaned. May I ask if you ate the body too?"

"Of course not." Madara grew vexed. "Where is she? She is supposed to be there, dead."

 _ **A few days later...**_

The city was in comparative repose. The sun rose higher over gentle slopes of grove and lawn, and heightened the colors of the thousand flowers that starred each knoll and dingle. A blessed haze lay upon all the region, wherein was held a little more of the sunlight than other places hold, and a little more of the summer's humming music of birds and bees, so that men walked through it as through a fairy place, and felt greater joy and wondered than they ever afterward remembered.

Tsunade arose with a loud gasp from the deep and painful slumber. She gasped convulsively for breath, as if a shudder resembling a fit of the ague agitated every nerve and muscle in her petite frame. Subsequently she felt her eyes starting from their sockets and a horrible nausea overwhelmed her, and at length she burst in tears of panic.

The past had not lost the vividness of the real; such impressions of the abhorrent, of the malign, of the unutterable diabolism shall never leave the mind of the young woman. The picture was blurred but ineradicable and she sobbed with her tremulous hands upon her face.

"Lady Tsunade…"

The voice, if she was to care, might have possibly lured her from the void of crying. Nevertheless, she took interest in nothing. Even the corpses of the battleground seemed a matter in which she had no concern. Volition she had none, but appeared to be impelled into motion, and flitted buoyantly out of the city, retracing the circuitous path afar from the pandemonium.

"Lady Tsunade… Let me help you." The man furthered ever so politely and tilted his head to one side, hoping to be able and steal a glance from the heiress.

Upon a sudden impulse of despair, the young woman's fingers reached upwards for the face not so far from her and drew him closer to her. The vision was blurred as the large hazel orbs were wetted in thick drops of tears. "Kakashi?" She could make out the pale locks of the mortal, the candid features of the face, yet the scent, and the frame were different.

"Ah…No…I'm sorry Lady Tsunade…" Blush mantled the young man's cheeks and slowly he guided himself back to a generous distance. She was the heiress after all, and he was a man with morals. "My name is…My name is Dan. Dan Katou." In a mild and cultivated voice he said and pulled out a handkerchief and offered it to her. "I am relieved you are awake. We have been worried for you."

"We?" Slowly she sat up, her body rigid and exhausted. She appreciated the kind gesture and cleaned her face with the soft cloth. The recollections of the past were too vivid, too stubborn to fade, and visible tears glistened in her eyes as they gushed tirelessly like two tiny fountains of hell.

"Lord Hiruzen, especially."

"Who are you? Where am I? Where is…" She was uncertain what to ask, for the reply might have been the worst nightmare to live. Where were all the people she cherished? The coldness of the ground must have welcomed most of them, if not all; the idea drawing more tears from her wretched soul.

"Kakashi-sama is alive, as far as I know." He began with a heart-warming smile. "The samurai had to retreat to avoid unnecessary bloodshed. Lord has Madara taken over the throne, for now."

"What day is it today?" How long she remained in this state it was impossible to say. It must, however, have been no inconsiderable time, for when she partially recovered the sense of existence and woke crying, there was a strange air of change shrouding her consciousness.

Her sensations, however, upon thus recovering, were by no means as replete with agony as might have been anticipated. Indeed, there was much of madness in the heart, when she began to take of her situation.

"It is the Day of Fire[1]. You have been unconscious for five days."

"Five days…" Tsunade repeated to fathom the facts, which she struggled to welcome in her brain. Too many days had passed, she sighed.

Dan looked with respect and abashment at the delicate and spiritual features of her, and slowly he rose from the ground. "I will get you something to eat, and if you want, I will tell you everything I know."

"Thank you…" She nodded quietly and found herself gripping the handkerchief in her hand.

As he left, she drew up to her eyes each of her slender hands, one after the other, and wondered what occurrence could have given rise to the swelling of the veins, and the horrible grayness of the fingernails. She afterwards carefully examined her head, shaking it repeatedly, and feeling it with minute attention, until she succeeded in satisfying herself that it was not, as she had more than half suspected, larger than usually.

It now occurred to her that she had suffered great uneasiness on the right side of her neck, and a dim consciousness of her situation began to glimmer through her mind. Cautiously, her fingers reached upwards to the skin that now dry and merely bruised.

It must have been true, the nightmares within the blankness of the repose being but the last seconds she could remember. For a few more minutes she remained wrapped in the profoundest meditation. She compressed her lips as she pondered, and caught herself squeezing a pendant on her bosom.

"Lady Tsunade." She regained hold over her mind and with a few blinks, she traveled her face to the direction of the deep, calm sound.

"Lord Hiruzen…" She bowed in her posture and beckoned the elder to seat himself anywhere he fancied; it was when she first glanced around and about the whereabouts of herself. She sat in a small, low-pitched room of antique construction, with tattered draperies upon the thin walls and leaden-hue tatami on the floor. Few long curtains hung at the large windows, which gave the chamber an atmosphere together classic and comfortable.

The elder offered a very faint smile and sat at a soft round pillow beside Dan who not long after followed with a bowl of soup in his hand. "You must have a lot of questions…"

"I do." She nodded with a wretched headache, and felt desperately drowsy. She proposed a mental idea that she could not do a wiser thing than just eat a mouthful of supper whilst learning about the frightful events of the village. Perhaps then the headache would pass and rage would soften the stiffened muscles of her brain. "The King… My Uncle is dead, isn't he?"

Hiruzen nodded.

Tsunade held the spoon in her hand as if wishing to bend it with anger. "Did he…Is he in peace now? Is he buried with my father?"

"Madara burnt everything and everyone after his coronation. As if driven by madness, he wanted to make sure nothing would be left behind to impede him from ruling."

"And the swords?"

"Your father's, I have it." He offered a mild smile as he spoke.

"Thank you…" She took a small spoon of the warm nourishment; the liquid rushed down her throat and the sensation of the simple meal made her shudder.

"I suggest you eat and drink well, in order to recover. Dan-sama stayed by your side all this time to make sure you would survive."

Dan's cheeks reddened at the elder's words and riveted his gaze at the ground.

Tsunade smiled at the sight of the man, and with a soft sigh she inquired. "Lord Hiruzen...Could you please tell me where the samurai are? Your son and Kakashi? And Jiraiya?" She poured into the air a flood of nervous questions and awaited impatiently at the answers, no matter how gruesome they were to be; she needed to know.

"My boy brought you here. He said he would go and join some of the group and Kakashi to take the innocents to the shelters. Jiraiya went with them too, I told him to. Hashirama's last wish was to swear loyalty to you and thus avoid becoming rounin. The battle between the clans and the Uchiha was never even, so we did not fight. The samurai made sure the streets wouldn't be flooded by blood and they left to the Land of Iron."

"Will they be back?" She asked agitated.

"When we are strong enough to defeat Madara. It would be unwise to do anything in this state. You were drained and the dragon is yet weak."

She sighed as she slowly ate. "Do we have any allies…? Is the Land of Iron a safe place?"

The elder smiled upon that question and nodded in the affirmative. "General Mifune is Kakashi's grandfather. He is the eldest samurai of the world, and one of the most powerful.

She smiled in relief and slowly reached the bottom of the bowl resting on her lap. "That is good…At least they are all right…" The young woman nodded to herself and the last spoon of soup rushed down with a more delicate warmness than before. Albeit too curious she seemed, for truly she felt worried for the silver-crowned warrior, she asked at last.

"Shuya went with them, did he not? Or he stayed somewhere hidden with his mother?" The times she encountered the child could have easily been counted on one hand as if not on one finger, nonetheless she felt attached to him; he was a bewitching being with all the cheerfulness and joy of life, and the peculiar demeanor added to his cunning character.

The face of the two men in front of her grew sullen that evinced the lurking fear within her bosom; she dared not mention it, she dared not speak of it, dreading the single thought of it being true.

"Tell me… Tell me please." She pleaded in desperate trepidation.

"We do not know much, it is not my business…However…" Lord Hiruzen began on an afflicted voice. "I saw the pale child in the Palace. Madara is sick, Lady Tsunade. Whatever his fever-maddened brain says, no matter how horrible it is, he does it. The state in which I saw that boy might be better by now."

"Be more exact, Lord Hiruzen. Is he alive or not?" Tsunade put down the bowl whilst she stared at the warrior sternly.

"I hope so." He nodded softly.

Upon the upheaval of her erratic heart, she leaped out of bed in an ecstasy, overthrowing all in her way. She drew her body upwards, with a prodigious exertion of muscular force, and she succeeded, at the very first trial. "I am going to find him." She spoke severely as then, dressed herself with a rapidity truly marvelous, and edged closer to the wall until her stability could be regained.

"I suggest you do not, Lady Tsunade." The two rose and Dan betook towards the invalid, as he knew soon she would collapse in exhaustion of both the heart and body.

"I cannot let anyone else die, Lord Hiruzen! I need to do something." She drawled when words struggled to came to her consciousness. "I have to get him back. And I need to be stronger. I need to stop people from dying. He is too young…He hasn't done anything. I must get him back…" The visible chagrin in her voice filled the air with heaviness. Dan helped the heiress away from the wall who was rapidly losing her recruited strength.

"We can talk about it later, Lady Tsunade. First, you need to make sure you stay alive. There is immense work ahead of us if we want to defeat Madara. I understand your desire to save innocents, but it must wait, at least for a couple of days." With a polite bow, the Sarutobi leader decided it would be the wisest policy to leave the young woman for rest and trouble her later with the problems of the village.

"That is too long…" She muttered quietly and her hazel gaze rapidly casted from the elder to the other. Her soft touch reached for the kimono of the pale physician and pulled him backwards toward her frame. "Dan-sama…That is too long." She repeated with eyes leering into his. "Can you help me? Please help me."

"He-help…?" Dan's ivory cheeks flushed in crimson when he found himself closer to her than he had ever surmised so. Carefully, he aided in the motion of sitting down with his hands upon her shoulders.

"Dan-sama, come with me to the village…Once we get him back I will train and-…And I will do whatever Lord Hiruzen tells me to. But I cannot stay here and rest when I know that child is in danger and suffering! He is a really sweet boy, Dan-sama. Please. I cannot lose more people." She pleaded, beseeched, cried tirelessly to convince the man in front her, the nauseating fears of her own mind sickening the weak body.

"All right, all right Lady Tsunade." With a sigh, he nodded in the declarative and answered in his particularly mild tone, worry severing his soft features. "We can leave at sunset. Until then, I ask you to please rest."

"Thank you Dan-sama." She pulled him to her bosom in a grateful embrace. The man wondered when he would lose hold of his consciousness, but with rapidly recruited strength he bowed, upon slowly pulling away.

"You are welcome, Lady Tsunade." At length he made haste from the chamber, leaving the heiress in solitude.

"I will save you, Shuya-kun… Gods will be my witnesses." Her fingers found once more the pendant in her neck, as she quietly uttered those simple syllables. Destiny was ineluctable as long as one did nothing in order to form it. Whatever brooding fear lurked in the darkness, she was to fight it. The hour was no proper for rest, for her heart pounded in ecstatic vigor to change the course of life. Besides, he would come back…And if he did so, she would be the one reassuring him about the well-being of his son.

* * *

[1] Tuesday


	11. Désespoir

**_"_** ** _Never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake." -Napoléon Bonaparte_**

* * *

There was bright moonlight over the snowless landscape as the night arrived, and red-eyed devils danced on the roofs of Konoha, and unnatural madness howled in the wind. Through the fevered town had crept a curse which some said was greater than pestilence, and which some whispered was the embodied demon-soul of the Pestilence itself.

To her, it bore the name Madara Uchiha. Disgust and horror were supreme whenever that horrible name was uttered in front of her; there was no demonic chant or more gruesome curse than that horrible, repellent name.

It was but a barely visible sigh that stroked the parting lips when her attention was suddenly drawn from the remote mountaintops to the man who stood beside her.

"Lady Tsunade..." Spoke he, on a demure, cultured voice.

"Yes, Dan-sama?" She smiled, yet her heart was bathed in abysmal sorrow, whilst carefully she moulded her voice to warm, candid tunes. "Did you get me what I asked?"

The man nodded and unclasped the cloak to unveil the katana of magical prowess. "Are you certain that this is the best idea?" The evident uncertainty lingered in his voice upon asking a question to which he was already given the answer, by simply glancing at the perfect lineament of her face that now was besprinkled in confusion and melancholy.

"If we stop to think about things, whether them be good or bad, we shall stay here until our bodies are buried underneath the earth, and worms make good use of our corpses."

He thought, upon listening the forlorn words of the woman, that he perceived the traces of sorrow in her countenance, which was excessively, although to his taste, not unpleasantly, pale. Both her soul and her body were attired in deep mourning, which excited in his bosom a feeling of mingled respect, interest, and admiration. "La-Lady Tsunade…"

He began, stuttering as usual, "...if you wish so, we can leave now." The benign voice resounded in the air as he uttered, his eyes never once left the sight of her. He was concerned, no, it was beyond the proper use of the word; he feared for her life, for her to commit something rather ludicrous, something that shall take her future as compensation.

"If you are ready...Because I am." He was not, at all, yet the man was in no state or possessed no title to oppose to her ideas and impede them. Thus, by lack of choice, he said what she wished to hear from him.

"Yes, thank you." She offered him a faint smile and shrouded her shoulders with a large, black pal. "I think I am ready, too." Added the heiress with a nod of assent.

Before thoughts of inappropriate nature,-for they were dismal, sorrowful, maddened-, were to cloud her judgment of the current state of things, she quickly shook her head and beckoned Dan to leave before anyone was to take notice of their design they secreted so well up until this very moment. Breaths were hold back and footfalls grew more cautious than ever before, as they passed the gates of the refuge.

"Dan-sama...Before we go and find Shuya, may I have an extra request?" Tsunade asked cautiously, albeit she was certain the man would agree to her any wishes if that was the case.

"Yes," he began, and surprised she was not on that remark. "What would it be, Lady Tsunade?"

"I would like to go and see their home first...I mean, Kakashi's. I just have this feeling we could find something important there to help us or at least to make sure nobody has broken in and ruined it."

"Well...All right." Dan nodded comprehensively and thus grew to wonder about the reason of the elevated interest she took in the samurai and in his personal life. Could she be a part of it, perhaps, or the case was even more complicated than that audacious idea of the heart? Looking at her, there came upon his spirit an alien sensation he could but little shake off and so he asked no more, whilst bothered by his own crime.

"Thank you." was all she said.

As the road slowly led down, she listened for the merry sounds of the village of the eerie evening, albeit she could not hear them. Then, she thought of the reason of fearful quietude, and thus after that she did not listen for merriment or looked for wayfarers familiar to her, but kept on down beside the pale companion, and walked past the hushed lighted farmhouses and shadowy walls of large, chaotic walls of stone.

As they walked on the printless road, it felt very lonely, albeit she was not alone, and sometimes she thought she heard a distant horrible creaking as of hellhounds, in the wind. The village has changed. The liveliness ceased and joy neglected the atmosphere.

Ceaseless mazes of houses once buoyant with life, now piled and scattered at every angle and level like a mad child's disordered blocks. There was nothing beautiful in the view, nothing heart-warming in the scene, which spread out in front of their eyes.

She trembled at the sight of the signs of closed, ruined shops and of those courtesan houses hat creaked in the cold breeze, and the grotesque knockers of oak carved doorways glistened along deserted, unpaved lanes in the light of little, curtained windows.

For a brief elapse of time, her footfalls ceased and she stood on the moon-cursed land of the accursed village. "What has happened here?" Quietly hummed syllables escaped through the barely parted lips, with a body horror-stricken. " _What has he done_...?"

"Lady Tsunade...I believe we should keep going." Dan offered being cautious. He seemed by no means unaware or aghast about the blood-chilling metamorphosis of the village, and so wary he was upon replying. "I believe it is best to be as fast as possible, and remain unseen." The subject of extra carefulness was thus suggested and the heiress beckoned apprehensively.

"Yes, of course...I apologize." She nodded obediently and recovering from the truth, her feet carried her beside the man. Within her heart, she grieved the red nights of lustful dreams, the incongruous laughter of virgin throats escaping into the air, the bodies on fire, fuelled by the intemperate desires of young spirits and old, thirsty hearts. There was silence, so quiet as of the grave, so brooding as of the tomb, so unholy as of the rotting corpse.

She had seen maps of the town, and already knew where to find the home of the samurai. Tsunade would not miss to investigate the occurrences, and thus she wished to make sure the home was as intact as it was supposed to be. If she would find any intruder, any thief, with the utmost absurdity of taking anything from there, she would know, and she would stop them.

There were no lights inside the house when they came upon it, yet she grew half-afraid from a sentience yet alien to her. Some fear had been gathering in her, within her soul, perhaps because of the strangeness of her heritage, and of the bleakness of the evening, and the queerness of the silence in her village of curious customs.

She could not quite grasp the true notion of such troubling idea, however, and wished to shake off the malign sensation of the spirit before it suffocated her.

"This is it." Said the heiress with caution, upon opening the creaking bamboo doors of the garden. The road was well known to her, albeit not many times had she previously frequented it. If there was any place to find blindly, it was but Ichiraku's courtesan house, such she dared not mention to anyone for knowing so well, especially not to the man beside her. Perhaps she did know that brothel, too well to be usual.

The past was still vivid in the small, neat home. As for the sad truth of the facts, the small-paned windows were largely broken, and a nameless air of desolation hung round the intruders. Shaky interior shutters, peeling wallpaper, fallen paintings, and such fragments of battered furniture remained around the place and were easily spotted anywhere the eye could see.

The dust and cobwebs added their touch of the fearful, and in silent despair, the heiress' one hand squeezed at the arm of the man beside her, whilst with the other she grabbed at the pendant of her necklace as if desperate to recruit her own strength from the small object.

"Let's take a look around..." She proposed and slowly the two betook forward in the house.

The small home was full of a frightful stench, which Dan seemed to know too well, but upon asking what it was, he simply gave a smile and said nothing. Later she learnt the sickening odor was the perfume of Death.

Within her mind, she vividly visualised last night's sins to unbind her heart from despair that seemed to follow her strict in her footfalls. Goosebumps brushed her ivory frame upon recalling the soft whispers of the ear that lingered right to the heart, the urging devotion with which a body worked towards heavenly bliss...The torture of one another, within the divine unison until screams were to betray the luscious perversion of the soul. " _Kakashi..."_

Tsunade was awakened suddenly by the wild, fierce cries of the savage watchdog of the neighbour. Deep and terrible, the snarling, half-mad growls and barks continued; always in mounting volume, but with hideously significant pauses.

"Someone is coming!" She called loud enough to be audible yet silent to an extent to avert no other attention at her existence. "Dan-sama!" Some instinct warned Tsunade that what was approaching was by no means fortunate to them, and thus, hiding became imperative to remain unseen and most importantly, to remain safe.

"Dan-sama!" Called she again for the man, who, shortly after appeared in the living-room where she had been standing for a time unmeasured.

"I heard something too...I think someone might be coming here. Or..."

"They are already here!" No more seconds to be wasted, she knew, and upon a sudden, frightened impulse, she grabbed the man beside her and pulled him with her into the closet.

"La-..." Dan could not finish speaking as he was silenced by the palm of the heiress who shared the narrow furniture's darkness with the man; beyond doubt the place was too small in several ways and comfort there was none, privacy there was none, bodies were close and hearts beat with the same, frantic rhythm.

Dan blessed the gods even against the odd situation he quickly found himself in, as the blush upon his cheeks could not be depicted by her. All he did was admire her, and shortly he could not deny the growing flames within the furnace of desire.

In that moment that seemed to be eternity whilst elapsing, Tsunade was fully afraid, because she had not heard any footsteps before the door creaked open. But she was not afraid for long, for the footfalls of the intruder were familiar to her, for the panting of the person was desperate, hollow and sullen, thus suggesting pain and aggrievance. In very fact, she rapidly recognized the breathing, the shallow scent, and the desperate cries of the unseen.

The unknown's feet carried the human into the middle of the living room, where she fell on her knees and pulled out a kunai. "Please forgive me... But...But I cannot take this anymore." Then came a halt in the gasping, and slender fingers reached for a kunai within the pocket of the kimono. She raised her head in a long, desperate sigh and for a brief moment of time shot her eyes upon the peeling ceiling, and outside the window the shrill howling of the watchdog ceased.

Tsunade watched the scene through the creaks of the closet with a panic-stricken heart and squeezed the man's mouth without noticing so. He could but barely mumble whilst his sight was averted too at the intruder.

Dan, who had developed a woefully acute case of nerves, rapidly began to motion to the heiress to do something, as if something indeed had to be done, ignoring all the ominous signs of malevolence that were to predict the future's tales.

"All right, all right." Nodded she and with the next second, Tsunade burst from the closet and threw herself at the woman with the kunai. Before she could have committed suicide, the younger took the weapon from the shuddering hands and threw it at the farthest extremity of the room. "Rin-san!"

"Jiraiya the physician!" Rin's large eyes grew unnaturally wide as she found the heiress upon herself. "Wha-what are you doing here? Who is that man in the closet?" The fragile soul's body trembled convulsively like a leaf in a frenzied autumn-wind whilst Tsunade retreated onto the ground and wiping off the dust, she rose back on her feet.

"My name is Dan, Dan Katou." Dan introduced himself in an ever polite manner and offered his usually warm smile with a cultivated voice that reverberated in the air like of angelic harps. "We came here to-..."

"To investigate what happened with everyone." Tsunade was quick to finish his sentence whilst she carefully observed the woman's behaviour. "I was wondering if any of you survived and how things had gone...In the Palace, well...Things are not the same." She swiftly cloaked the lie so sweetly wrapped like a candy.

"We-we are fine...Shuya, my boy... He was taken to the Palace. Did you meet him, then?" Rin asked curiously.

"No, I have not been back there since the death of Hashirama...Of King Hashirama." Tsunade corrected herself and recruited all ounce of strength to refrain herself from tears that invisibly glistened upon her face and bathed her soul in black pain.

"You must not say that name anymore, Jiraiya!" Rin was fast to cover the heiress' mouth for a brief moment before she resumed, her eyes beaming at the other in unnatural glint within. "Hashirama was a traitor! He killed King Madara's family! We are only lucky this righteous man took the throne. I heard the heiress too was killed. It was Hashirama who killed his own daughter. They say he ate her."

"Wha-...Wha...Jir-Ha-wha-...the hell.." Dan found no words to utter, and instead it seemed as if the syllables he coughed defied all correlation with any speech of earth.

Then came a short pause of silence among the three. The dragon spirit blinked a couple of times whilst struggling hard to fathom the words she heard yet still struggled to believe she did indeed hear them and it was not her mind playing tricks on her before madness were to take her.

Keeping these impressions in view, after that Tsunade was cautious in what she said in front of Rin, for she could not be sure that the woman was completely sane. After all, she was about to kill herself and curse her soul with eternal suffering, when a child was waiting to be saved. Secondly, she knew her as a woman of intellect and kindness whilst this soul in front of her reeked from the stench of delirium. Rin had to be delirious, for there was no other way to accept what she had just uttered.

And, in fact as previously remarked, there was a certain restless brilliancy about her eyes which half led Tsunade to imagine that she was not sane at all. No matter the reason, whether some kind of Genjutsu casted of the peril of one's weak mind, thus, she confined her questions, to general topics, which could still give the heiress any conducement, and to such as she thought would not be displeasing or exciting even to a lunatic.

Rin replied in a perfectly rational manner to all that she asked; and even her original observations were marked with the soundest good sense, but the short acquaintance with the macabre contortion of truth had taught Tsunade to put no faith in such evidence of sanity, and thus she continued to practise, throughout the interview, the caution with which she commenced it.

Rin wildly blamed Kakashi for serving the Senju demon for so long and in minute intervals she cursed and then blessed the same man for the present situation she was put into. Suddenly, something riveted her eyes and she became curious with eyebrow peaked. "Why do you have his necklace?" Perplexed she grew upon asking. "Why do you have Kakashi's necklace? He has never given me any personal belongings."

"Ah..." The blonde woman grabbed at the pendant nervously, sweat drops drawing on her forehead. "It's uhm..." The words were hard to phrase as she was instantaneously thrown out of the role of being the one to question instead of being questioned.

"Are you-...Are you his lover? Is that so?" Rin furthered, sudden change coming upon her visage.

At the proposal of the absurd, deep crimson mantled the heiress' face and heat coated the ivory skin.

 _The lover of the samurai?_

Rin had developed symptoms highly alarming in view of an always weak heart. It was a very foolish hysteria that suddenly overwhelmed her spirit, thereupon Dan held her down when she drew a stiletto, and the air from the lungs departed amidst jealous shrieks, curses and oaths of vengeance.

"I am...I am nothing like that! He is my friend!" She protested fiercely to such accusations and resumed with more severity within the softly stringed voice. "Kakashi...He gave it to me...After Shuya's recovery. He wanted to thank it somehow but I am aware it is hard to pay, these days. So I accepted this pendant until he returns and gives me the amount he owes..." With a heavy heart of lies, she offered a false smile.

Here Rin faltered, and seemed to shiver afresh with the fright that had previously possessed her upon wishing to commit suicide. "I-...I beg a thousand pardons for the suspicion," Rin replied with her head hung, "but of course you will know how to excuse me. You are too beautiful and with Kakashi...Well we have been...We have not been on the best terms...and I thought it just possible, you know..." She stuttered like a shy child after caught in theft.

"You shan't trouble yourself with those ideas...I am certain when he returns he will look for you." Tsunade's heart grew black with remorse upon uttering those words; she wished more than anything for them to prove false in every possible way, and that singular truth perplexed her.

"He will." A contemptuous glint flitted across her naturally mild portraiture. "I should not have been so blunt about the truth, now I realize that. If I had stayed by his side, none of this would have happened."

"You-You are not together?"

"I chose another man, Iruka...But...It would be simply madness if Kakashi found someone else." Rin's large deep eyes beamed in triumph as she demurely continued. "Kakashi is complicated, secretive, and too entitled to his family inheritance. I want him around Shuya and me. That is the best choice for him."

"I-...I see..."

"Jiraiya, dear..." Rin lifted her gaze at her questioningly, and resumed. "You serve King Madara now, do you not?"

She could not answer, for the lie itself was too painful to utter and truth led to damnation. "Why do you ask, Rin-san?"

"I wanted to know if you could tell my son that I miss him."

"He is there, at the Palace, isn't he? So it is true...," mused Dan who had been quietly present in the scene.

"Yes, of course." Rin's visage lit up in warm thrill. "Lord Orochimaru is taking good care of him. That is what Iruka told me. He said that the lord gathered special children to keep an eye on their growth and health. He also told me that my boy is his favourite." Upon that additional information, she giggled.

"I will tell him...In fact, we are going back right now and tell Shuya that you miss him!" Tsunade nodded and cleared her throat.

Rin's challenged soul was too much to bear, and the words the innocent spoke resounded with blasphemous tunes from the bewitched throat of Hell. She was beyond doubt mesmerized, if not by Madara's magic, it was but the illness of the heart that had eaten up the last ounce of sanity of the feverish brain.

Tsunade, unable to extract more necessary information from the unstable, at length decided upon departing from the home, only upon confirming that the woman would not wish to throw herself into the embrace of Death once again.

She made efforts to convince her to keep the encounter among the three of them and shall never mention, not even to those they cherished, however Rin seemed by no means creditable.

Needless to say, the heiress was also troubled by the fact that Dan had spoken his true name, thus unveiling his true self to the enemy. Changes could there be none, and thus, the two parted from Rin under the enveloping darkness.

 ** _A few minutes later..._**

The village noises had been very pronounced during the stark obscurity, and dogs barked frantically all night.

"If Orochimaru kidnapped children, he must be keeping them somewhere close to Madara's chambers. Somewhere hidden where no ordinary person wished to reach nor would have the possibility to act upon such foolish desire. It can only be one place. The shrine."

Upon this hint she acted, and the two betook on the blasphemous tracks in the secret streets of the village, during long intervals hurried on the side of the wounded cattle gathered at the farmhouses, and passed the enormous swaths of disturbed vegetation in various places that grew larger and more sinister the closer they emerged to the Palace. The trail up and down the hill seemed to Tsunade of almost cataclysmic significance, memories and sensations mingled in her soul.

She spoke not on the way, but hurried with all her main and might and looked not back. They took the very same road underneath the osseous arms of grotesquely knobbed trees and sinister moonlight she used to take each night she fled from her home. The destination, however, was not her home anymore, in fact, she possessed no such thing as a house or a room.

She looked long at the hideous altar-like stone within the garden, as they broke into the poorly guarded dwelling. To speculate, it was futile. Reason, logic, and normal ideas of motivation stood confounded as they reached the shrine. "Let's make it quick. If we meet anyone, we kill it or we die trying." Tsunade murmured on undertone and grabbed the handles of the wooden entrance.

"O-okay." Dan nodded and followed her. He wished he knew this place better, thus he could have taken better care of her, as now he depended on the heiress more than it was comfortable for the man. With curiosity piqued, he awaited the scene the vault was to offer to him; he only heard the furtive tales about the mad doctor, and never once could he imagine the length the serpent was to reach, in experimenting. Soon, Dan would learn the truth, and the truth was nothing he has ever imagined.

Orochimaru's existence was a quest amid black and forbidden realms of the unknown, in which he hoped to uncover the secret of life and of eternity. He possessed scientific interests far beyond the usual routine of a village physician. Such a quest as before remarked, of course demanded strange materials, among them fresh human bodies.

Thus, in order to keep himself supplied with these indispensable things, one must lived quietly and not far from a place of informal interment; that is how his laboratory was at length built and perfected under the shrine amidst the Palace's lofty walls.

Many men have related hideous things, not mentioned in print, which happened on the battlefields of the Great War.

Some of these things have made Tsunade faint, others have convulsed her with devastating nausea, while still others have made her tremble and look behind her back in the dark; yet despite the worst of them she believed she could herself relate the most hideous thing of all; the shocking, the unnatural, the unbelievable horror within the vault, the hideous perversion of human experiments.

The scene she could not fully describe, for she knew vertigo was to take her if she ever wished to, for there was madness in the chamber full of classified charnel things, with blood and lesser human debris almost ankle-deep on the slimy floor, as they descended on the iron stairs and complete darkness welcomed them.

The two intruders stood in dead silence for a brief moment of time to measure whether they shared the room with anyone living, however, noise of that nature there came none.

Against all gruesome vistas, the hour was one of approaching triumph, for she knew she would do everything to save that child.

"Do you have a lighter?" Suddenly breaking the eerie silence, Dan asked on undertone whilst blinking a couple of times as if to wishing to adjust his senses to the faint starkness of the atmosphere.

"A what?"

"Can you light fire? You are a dragon, aren't you?"

"You thi-...Well all right." She had nothing to lose, had she? Tsunade took a deep breath and closed her eyes, and focused on the spirit within her soul. Several seconds passed, seconds that seemed to swell into eternity and she could feel nothing. She even attempted on touching Tobirama's sword that remained ever so obediently by Dan's side, yet not even that magical weapon could awake the beast. "Something is wrong..."

"You think?" He said and pointed at a flickering light from the short distance. "Let's go..."

Slowly, and cautiously approaching the ominous lustre they found themselves standing in the cellar laboratory of the serpent and gazed at a white, silent figure beneath the dazzling arc light. The embalming compound he used had worked uncannily well, for as Tsunade stared fascinated at the sturdy frame, she moved,-with a nudge in the ribs- to seek Dan's assurance that the thing was indeed dead. "But are you sure?"

"Yes, let's keep moving, Lady Tsunade…We have to find the boy and I have a bad feeling if we are caught."

"You are right, you are right." Said she and cautiously, yet nonetheless suspiciously slipped past the silent frame and thus Dan followed her.

She knew painfully well what kind of a beastly manifestation to expect but gave no word of it. Fear could remain but a nightmare if it was not uttered, for words possessed the power of inviting the inanimate to vividness.

The vault contained a huge incinerator for the quiet and complete disposal of children's bodies, or fragments of bodies, as might remain from the morbid experiments and unhallowed amusements of the owner. During the late reconstruction of this secret cellar, Madara's slaves extended it with several chambers; undoubtedly connected with the old burying-ground. In each chamber, group of boys and girls lay, unconscious, famished, dehydrated, their blood mingled in the dirt and in the visible traces of fear on the torn undergarments.

Heavy locks upon the doors detained them from freeing the children, such truth tearing her heart apart. She could not stand the sight of the dying innocents, for she knew she was too close yet so far from helping them. If alive they remained, it was not a question of possibility but a mere reverie. Cautiously she looked into each cell, and eagerly sought the sight of Shuya. Her anxiety only rose when she realized that he was not there; he was not among the casualties. Could it be...Could it be thus he was already dead?

"There is still one room, there... I believe it is the main part...For the experiments." Dan proposed as he put his hand upon her shoulder and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

The heiress nodded in assent and followed obediently the man beside her. As he glanced at her, he noticed that outwardly she was the same to the last, guarded, fierce, slim, and golden-haired, with magnificent hazel eyes and a general aspect of youth, which despair and fear seemed never to change. She seemed calm even when they passed the chambers and headed to the main part of the vault. Her expression never betrayed the true contents of her heart, something he admired in her deeply.

Shuya lay on an improvised dissecting-table under the deficient light of a lamp. There were some strange garments in the room within the seemingly complete disarray of both things and of furniture.

"Stay there, Dan-sama." She spoke as she forbade him to touch the body for now. Her eyes glanced around and flitted across the room in search of signs of what diabolism could have been made to the invalid.

"Do you know what you are doing, Lady Tsunade?" Dan proposed the question well inquired.

That question, however, she did not deem vital and thus she said, "lately, I have but the slightest of idea if I do or not, Dan-sama." With a mild smile she replied, and with the next moment, she slowly descended the palms over the lifeless body. Then, the hazel eyes closed and green clouds of energy emanated from the hands.

"He is alive." She stated after a few seconds passing in utter silence. The suspense was slowly arising. "We need to act quickly." Rapidly glancing around, the young woman rushed from one table to another, grabbed one scroll after another, pulled one drawer after another whilst her companion listened for alien sounds.

"What are you doing?"

"I am preparing an ordinary fluid to inject into his body."

"A what?" Dan's eyes widened for he could not wholly fathom the words uttered.

"A fluid. He was drugged, we need to get him out of it, otherwise I can't heal him. Lord Hiruzen once gave me a book about herbs, I saw a recipe there." She was relentless. Grabbing a few unknown ingredients, she resumed. "Please just give me that violet flower, I will need that. And that strange looking vial, on your left… On your other left, Dan-sama."

First, she injected a drug in the wrist and the needle punctured the violet vein in a swift motion. This, she said, was to neutralise the compound and release the system to a normal relaxation. Dan nodded and he spoke no more, thus remaining completely still in astonishment of the heiress' confidence.

Albeit confident indeed, she could not deny the worry within the large orbs whilst she cautiously kept her gaze upon the ivory-skinned child. With quiet sighs and a heart trembling with agitation, she refused the stillness of the exotic chamber. It was impossible to express the wild, breathless suspense with which they waited for the results to show. Slightly later, a change and a gentle tremor seemed to affect the seemingly dead limbs.

"Shuya…?"

Upon the syllables uttered, a touch of colour came to cheeks hitherto chalk-white, and spread over the sweet face of the boy.

"Shuya!"

Dan, who had his hand on the pulse of the left wrist, suddenly nodded significantly to her. "I believe you did it, Lady Tsunade." He offered a smile as he spoke on his usually mild and cultivated voice.

She nodded and quickly wiped off the visible tears blooming in the exotically slanted eyes. Ever so careful she was as she caressed the cold cheeks of the child and with quivering lips, she planted a soft kiss upon the forehead.

Almost simultaneously, a mist appeared on the mirror inclined above the body's mouth. There followed a few spasmodic muscular motions, and then an audible breathing and visible motion of the chest gave signs of the life once more stirred. Then the lids opened, showing eyes, which were black, calm, and alive, but still fatigued.

"Tsunade-ryuu."[1]

The heiress' full lips widened in a warm smile upon hearing the nickname. "Shuya-kun..." Whispered she and pulled the boy into a loving embrace. In the next moment, there was no doubt about the triumph; no doubt that the solution had truly accomplished, at least temporarily, its full mission of restoring the child to life. "I am here to get you out of here, Shuya-kun." She began, barely believing her joy.

"Are Papa and Mama okay?" The child asked with lips quivering. Albeit calm, his heart was not and thus anxiety awoke his body to consciousness.

"Yes. They miss you. Your dad is away, but he will return. And as soon as you are fine, we will meet your mom too, all right? Can you trust me, at least for now?"

"Of course, Tsunade-ryuu." Shuya nodded slowly whilst his limbs moved and albeit unsure, he slowly sat up on the dissecting table. As he blinked a few times, there came a change of color in the left socket, and the deep black glowed in deep violet hue, with several circles framing the pupil.

So, as the hour grew dangerously near to dawn, the three had to made haste from the vault as soon as possible; Dan crouched the child into his arms and followed the narrow way outside, rushing past the cells and upon the slimy, sickening ground. Once more they reached the white, silent figure beneath the dazzling arc light and carefully slipped through beside it. Nobody then realized, that upon the white, silent figure's lips curled a faint smile upwards, and a tip of poignant tongue came past the parted mouth.

 ** _Not so long after..._**

It was a grey, bleak dawn, with now and then a drizzle of rain; and heavier and heavier clouds seemed to be piling themselves up beyond the hills to the northwest, where the shelter lay.

The air cooled down with the occasionally falling drops and cold mantled the skin underneath the heavy layers of cotton garments upon entering the hideout; soaked to the bone they rushed into the small cottages, whilst Shuya remained drifted into a swoon.

"Lord Hiruzen..." Dan, after leaving the child in Tsunade's care, the man made haste to report the happenings to the eldest Sarutobi. He was very well aware of the fact the he knew everything that happened, without having to speak of it, for the heiress' stubbornness betrayed her actions every time. "I must apologize..." He bowed deeply, with knees upon the floor.

"Were you seen?"

"We were, by a woman named Rin..." He began as he took a seat upon the tatami ground and faced the elder. "However, she kept addressing Lady Tsunade by the name _'Jiraiya'_ and thus I believe we aroused no suspicion in her."

"I see...What else is there?"

"I found it strange that nobody stopped us, if you let me be blunt."

Lord Hiruzen nodded, as if the words uttered were his own. The escape had been too effortless, and traces they must have left plenty. "We have to assume a possible attack, from now on." Upon that remark, he sighed. "Time we do not have much, however...I will make sure to train the heiress."

 ** _Meanwhile..._**

After the clock had struck three, the pale eye of the stark sky shone in her eyes, but she paid no attention to such nuisance. Leisurely, she uplifted her gaze and for several minutes, the heiress beamed at the sight in front of her. The moon streamed revealingly down on the form silhouetted beside her, the motionless child swooned in deep slumber. Carefully, she folded an arm around the boy and reclosed the fatigued eyes. She could not help fearing the mess, which would ensue if the affair of the night had been revealed.

"Tsunade-ryuu..."

"Yes, Shuya-kun?"

"Thank you for saving me..."

She smiled at his words and slowly, once again traveled her gaze at him. He was watching her with fatigued expression. "You're welcome, Shuya-kun...I am sorry I could not cure your eye, though...I am glad, that at least you seem to be seeing perfectly with it."

"I see weird things...Shapes and...I don't know...I don't know what that ugly snake wanted...I don't remember much...I barely recall you finding me..."

"You were heavily drugged. I got it out of your system and healed your scars and injuries when we got back here." She added with a stroke in his hair induced by her fingers. After a general pause, she whispered curiously. "How do you what I am?"

"I can sense your aura." He began as he lifted his eyes up at her face. "And I recognize that necklace. It belonged to Granny."

"Your grandmother?" Tsunade's eyes widened in curiosity that produced a chuckle from the boy.

He nodded in the declarative and continued. "Gramps gave it to her when they married, or something of a big event. Papa told me Granny was a demon, just like you. But Gramps loved her so he gave her a pendant to keep her power in control. So she never hurt anyone again."

"Oh...I see..." She uttered on a barely audible tone, forming syllables she should have vocalised better and thus avoid seeming incompetent in a conversation. Meanwhile, slowly her eyes traveled onto the pendant that lay peacefully in her bosom.

"Tsunade-ryuu..."

"Yes, Shuya-kun?" She looked back at him instantaneously.

"Do you know, by chance...why the King keeps a girl locked up in a nice chamber?"

"A girl?"

"My age...We used to play together in the playground after the Academy...Her name is Hinata-chan. I recall seeing her...When Mama told me to follow Iruka-sama to the Palace."

"Was she hurt like you, Shuya-kun?"

"No...The King seemed very careful with her. So I was wondering why...It is not like he is her dad, I know her dad."

"We will figure it out, okay? We will figure everything out and climb out of this mess. I promise."

"Don't promise me, Tsunade-ryuu. You don't know if you can keep it."

* * *

[1] Dragon


	12. Apologia

_**"**_ _ **When love is not madness it is not love."-**_ _ **Pedro Calderón de la Barca**_

 _ **Warning: Thanks to my first reviewer, Cat Beats, I would like to agree that this chapter will be awkward. I want to keep this story close to reality, as for relationships, and thus include things we might be scared or uncertain to include in our works. By this chapter, the main pairings are already done, so do not be discouraged.**_

* * *

Morning arrived on wanly footfalls, graciously embracing the sky with dullness, whilst the lurid night-sounds successively ceased. It was a grey and bleak day, with now and then a drizzle of misty rain over besprinkling the vast earth. Heavier and heavier the black clouds seemed to be piling themselves up beyond the hills of Yamigakure[1].

The downpour waxed in heaviness, and distant peals of thunder sounded from far horizons. Sheet lightning shimmered, and then a forky bolt flashed near at hand, as if descending into the accursed land itself. The sky grew very dark, and long, resplendent, white thunderbolts aroused to mind the scream of a thousand birds.

Madara was surveying the stark black sky and the mysterious nature of lightning with tacit assumptions about the yearly phenomena. In that very moment, he was but a self-contemplating shadow, with a spirit unseen in tormenting passions. "This sound…"

"The samurai's Chidori, my King." Orochimaru replied on a cultivated, grim tone as he stood behind the King, his sharp, serpent gaze eyeing the landscape, bewitched. "It is the sound of the samurai's Chidori."

"I wonder what summons this terrible noise to life once every year." He spoke with an all-repellent mood, and lifted his fingers upon his temples to rub away the brooding headache. "Reminds me, Orochimaru…"

"Yes, your Majesty?" The snake bowed in recognition and lifted his eyes back at the raven lord.

"Do I need to worry about the brat's escape?"

"No, my King, I assure you that you do not." He shook his head and smiled in an unnaturally portentous fashion and resumed. "My experiments have been proven successful so far."

"Successful?"

"Yes, my King." The Cobra took a step closer to his lord, and with a swift notion, his ghastly pale fingers embraced the Uchiha's hand. "The children, -albeit all dead, were an excellent choice in the reconstruction of missing limbs. Everyone who had suffered grave injures in the battle is now healthier than ever. The young, pure bones are easier to carve and smoother than other animals'. Your army is more agile and less destructible."

"You still let that Hatake brat be saved." Madara took his hand away whilst his dark, lurid sight traveled at the mad doctor beside him.

"It was my intention from the beginning."

"You were aware that the heiress was alive?"

"Not until the moment when we could not find the body." Orochimaru offered a soft smile that flitted across the grim visage of the demon. He was certain of his work and of the triumphant outcome he was to induce and thus, gaining the complete, deepest, honest affection from his commander. Once earning that, he would proceed to the next step, the step only he knew about.

"And tell me, Orochimaru, how do you plan on using him now? How will he free me from the curse?"

"We have to find a method to observe him. That one Rinnegan is a powerful thing, my lord." He began with a dire, yet thrilled note in his voice. "Once the eye settles, we shall take him back, present the rite, and open the gate between the worlds. Goddess Izanami will be elated to lift the curse off your Majesty, once she sees the sacrifice we brought for her."

"Very well then. Do you have a candidate? Do you know the location where he is being kept right now?"

"A candidate I do have, your Majesty." Upon uttering those ominous words he nodded, and taking a step back from the King, the serpent clapped his hands delicately together.

In that moment, two guards were presented at the doors of the chamber, and were bid enter. Madara, haggard in curiosity, made haste from the ancient wooden balcony and stepped back into his room where the crimson lights of bamboo lamps scattered the darkness to unseen places.

"She has been under my observation since the accident, my King." Orochimaru began on an uncanny undertone as he appeared beside the mesmerized woman, and presented her as if a dog was to be sold. "I took the liberty in opening her skull and extract information." He tittered with unnatural shrillness.

"And?" Madara's curiosity dissolved before the answer was to pique it high.

"Isn't it thrilling that the child's mother happens to be acquainted with the former heiress, and shares the same repellent taste in the mouth whenever uttering the Senju's name?"

Only a few moments were consumed in surveying the woman who stood rigidly in front of the King. Madara's dark, sanguine expression lit up with the promise of revenge and destruction and shortened the space between him and Rin.

The young woman was bewitched by the abundant dose of opiates that tinted her crimson blood with brazen tint, and blackened her brain with dullness. Her eyes wore a leaden-hue, appearing unintelligent and not even curious while the softly parted lips mumbled, as the human consciousness struggled to fathom the evil of the present. Dizzily, she inceded onward to her ultimate doom.

The King's hands grabbed at the tremulous arms and pulled her against the Royal vestiture. "She is the Hatake's woman, isn't it?"

"She…She still is, indeed." Orochimaru nodded in the positive. "She would die for that samurai."

"That is not yet necessary." Madara glanced at the serpent and returned his gaze back at his prey. "But would he die for her?"

"Certainly."

"What is the reason of this woman's hate towards the Senju whore?"

"From what I had seen in her memory, she believes in an affair."

"I am beginning to like this even more!" Madara's lips twisted in a dire laughter that reverberated through the misty atmosphere. "We send this wench to find the shelter and keep an eye on the sacrifice. And…Kill that blonde bitch."

"Indeed, your Majesty."

Rin, beginning to comprehend the doom in which she was casted, reached her soft fingers towards the King and gripped with the strength of a flower the velvet layer of Madara's habiliments. In frantic whispers, she uttered madness, madness of a dreadful nature.

"Do you not worry, wench. You shall not be harmed. Not until you did your job. Orochimaru, get this woman more conscious. I wish to pay my respect to the hunter and his family." Upon that remark, his black heart pounded with insane excitement.

The cobra did as he was told, for he well understood the command of his lord. Madara would gratify the urge of vengeance by any means necessary, such a devotion to which Orochimaru's spirit grew enflamed and with the same zest, he injected a bright green liquid into the slender neck of the invalid. "May I watch, my King?"

"Very well, then." With a self-righteous smirk, the evil ruler gave his assent while his stark eyes averted back on the woman in his arms.

"My-My King…" Rin stuttered abashed to be so close to the royal; sudden blush mantled her cheeks and she was quick to fall on her knees in a deep, polite bow.

"Stand back up, wench." Madara commanded after beckoning the guards to take their leave, and most importantly, to do not let anyone enter until he was finished. "Do you love your King, wench?"

"I do, my King." She nodded devoutly.

"Do you wish to serve me like one of my most trusted soldiers?"

"I do, my King."

"Very well then." The fact of her mesmerized state and bewitched mind made it simple for the woman to gain the King's fancy.

It was but a perverse reverie of the morbid, where she would be a more significant part of life than she was in truth, it was but a mockery of a dream where she could proven to be useful to the land she so dearly cherished, to the people she so deeply loved.

Notion of reality she had none; nonetheless, the image of a smiling leader committed her artificially mauled brain to joy. The look upon the ruler, the warm, furtive smile upon the divine features seemed to promise escape from the pain of the past and it was enough for the woman to fall into the hands of evil.

"My King…"

"Call me Madara…And I shall call you Yona."

"Yona…" The name lingered on Rin's tongue, a forlorn music to the King's cold heart.

Beneath the pressure of torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within him succumbed. Evil thoughts became Madara's sole intimates, the darkest and most evil of thoughts and of intentions.

He welcomed her back into his arms, whilst the black winds of perturbation whirled forcefully outside.

The satin of the undergarments felt delicious against his fingers as he deliberately slipped his hand underneath all bothersome clothing. Her frame was vested in a supple, porcelain skin that was lavishly anointed in perfumed oils. She was soft and tender, her feminity lingering around her like delicate mist of furtive desires.

He relished the touch of the woman, the sensation it ignited within his poisonous existence. It took but a blink of an eye when the lord's pale mouth claimed and conquered the lips of his opposite, and filled and mauled the soft flesh with arduous attention.

She reminded him of the one he once had loved, for she was timid, she was shy. Recollections of the most agitating nature materialized within the feverish brain of the mad man, where pain and pleasure ruled most sanguinarily.

He rejected the slightest sentience of romance and of affection, for those sensations had no business in the moment. It was pure hate, it was the work of inborn disdain, profound, unspeakable repugnance for the woman and for what she typified.

Then, a sardonic smirk twisted his tastefully symmetrical face into one of a demon's, when the woman was free of all clothing, and the eager eyes feasted on the sight with orgiastic thrill. Amidst broken kisses and heavy panting, amidst thick crimson resplendent on the mouth, she was taken as if a fragile body succumbed under the heavy lust of the Plague. The King and his thirst were unstoppable, unspeakable, and ungovernable; all the more ungovernable because decades of remorse and soul-upheaving need of vengeance exempted from the abysmal void of the organ addressed as heart.

Upon throwing the mistress amidst the red and black silken sheets that leisurely caressed the tender back of the woman, he did not quite troubled himself to fully divest, and thus, with the zest of the Devil, Madara positioned himself between her sweet, parted legs, his length thick and throbbing with the relishing sensation of her rapidly dissolving resistance.

Rin gazed at him longingly, as if truly the desire within her bosom burnt for no one else but the evil Uchiha. She feigned a smile of which she was unaware, and gradually, she grew unmindful of the past, and of those with whom she belonged.

"Oh, Madara…" She whimpered with wanton, blithe notes of utterance, whilst her thighs locked him securely to her groin. As any woman, she too grew lustful with the masculine endowments the king possessed, all that manly features encompassing his whole countenance.

It took but little until she felt the usually cold porcelain veil burn with fire of unknown origin, and covet the ruler in front of her large, maiden eyes. She welcomed him in a long, deep moan within the warm tight cavern, whilst she tugged at the royal covers with all her strength that remained. Madara did not restrain himself nor did he wish to discipline the crude satisfaction which he took in the sight of her.

He tore and pounded her delicious, and delicate part like a feverish stallion broken free. Carnal fury and orgiastic madness drove them to illimitable heights of perverse ecstasies, which tore and reverberated through their bodies like blithe tempests from the gulfs of lust.

The breathless cries and moans of the mistress aroused urges far more violent than peaceful, far more animalistic than humane within the lord who violated her long, deep and hard, without the slightest concern for anything or anybody else but himself.

The orgy of lust was brute and filthy, yet thrilling to the most perverse nature. The raven lord used her with great and thorough devotion, and she screamed her bliss with exhaustion of her fragile body to the merciless pounding of his shaft. Madara sodomized her at all times satisfying to the woman, and even more pleasing to his very own self.

At last, awe and exhaustion closed her eyes, and she swooned into blankness from the vile dance of her own body. She felt the King's warm, profuse release, and trembled at the pain of the breaking union.

"I need a shower…" Madara panted out those syllables whilst he sat amidst the torn sheets, sweat glowing like a crown over his forehead. "And get her out of here."

"Very well, your Majesty." Orochimaru nodded and rose from the velvet chair in which he was so comfortable observing the scene. Before he could have asked or addressed anything to his ruler, the heavy doors of the misty chamber opened without warning, and a pair of mismatched eyes blinked at the King.

"Hinata!" Madara's eyes widened in utter shock, and with the speed of lightning he was fast to veil the woman beside him.

The raven-crowned child batted her long, black lashes and upon dropping the bear plush, which she cherished so dearly, she was even quicker to rifle from the entrance.

"Hinata, wait! I said wait! Hinata!" Madara fled from the chambers with such precipitate haste that Orochimaru chuckled disturbingly behind him.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

The rain poured thickly and thunderously down from the dark heavens, with a velocity like the headlong dashing of a cataract. The sun had long seemed to cease to totter up its pathway to the sky, and loud lightning flashed across the veil of the universe, with the scream of a thousand birds.

"I can't do it. I can't." Tsunade's voice tinged with alarm if not more with warning. Under the heavy downpour, they stood, the moisture-stained nature by no means impeding them from training. There rose within them the tantalizing faith that the present torment may be not wholly fruitless, if only the goal could be reached.

"Lady Tsunade, you must do it. You have been practicing for days."

"You don't understand, Lord Hiruzen. This dragon is filled with hatred. It is in pain, and it is upset, for being locked in me. I cannot control it if it is out. I tried, and it doesn't let me close to it with meditation. The spirit strives for revenge."

"Trust yourself, Lady Tsunade. I want you to restrain it as much as possible."

"I could never restrain it!" She screamed amidst the loud falling of the rain, and the flashing cries of the mythical thunderbolts. Not even the weather was in her favor, how could the training happen now? She panicked.

"Now, you have no choice." A faint smile flitted across the elder's face whose fingers were rapidly creating seals. "Doton, Doryuudan![2]"

"Dammit, Lord Hiruzen!" Tsunade's voice was rising to a thin treble scream as she raved upon seeing the enormous dragon's head rising from the mud, when suddenly her voice was shut off with an almost mechanical click. "It's happening, again!"

The face beside Shuya was twisted almost unrecognizably in a moment, while through the whole body there passed a shivering motion, as if all the bones, organs, muscles, nerves, and glands were readjusting themselves to a radically different posture, set of stresses, and beastly personality. Oddly, the metamorphosis did not seem altogether unpleasing, for the remains of the human could still be traced on half of her disfigured body.

"Tsunade-ryuu…"

"Ge-get away, Shuya-kun…" She gasped with hollow vociferation to the child she wished not to harm.

The dusk grew very thick, and the lights of Yamigakure could be seen far behind, thus Shuya could not see much of her face anymore. The blaze of her eyes, although, was phenomenal; and the young warrior knew that she must now be in that queerly energized state, so unlike her usual self, which so many people had noticed and which so many people had feared.

She did not speak for some time, and to the child's inexplicable horror, he was glad that she did not.

The shock of recognizing that half monstrous transformation had frozen the people into mute, motionless statues, for a brief moment, and not long afterward, they rifled from the scene and hid under anything they found proper to guard their bodies.

"Lord Hiruzen! I think we can stop her from this! She is not completely a monster!" Dan shouted, watching the men flee in their fright. "Is there any jutsu we can use?" His sight decreased in minuteness, as the hateful, pallid mist curled forward as if veritably driven by some remoter advancing bulk.

"I can help! Let me help Lord Hiruzen!" Shuya was quick to react, as he stood not so far from the man. The timing was too close to admit of doubt, and he was well aware of the powers inherited. Indubitably, he was their best chance, if not the only.

"You need an attack less powerful than the Chidori, but strong enough to allow her to regain control." The old Sarutobi responded, being one of the three men facing the beast. "She is restraining half of the spirit, which is good…" He pondered quietly to himself, completely still as a pond within his soul.

Shuya shivered at the blaze of Tsunade's golden eyes and took a step backwards with a lightning blade within his hands. The people were right; she did look damnably like the dragon that brought destruction and desolation on the same land fifteen years ago.

He did not wonder that spiritual beings were greatly disliked, for there was certainly something unnatural and diabolic in them, and he felt the sinister element all the more, because of the wild ravings he had been hearing from the people in the village.

"Tsunade-ryuu…Please forgive me, but…But I have to…" He glanced upon his palms, and back at the suffocating vapor that tormented his lungs.

"Shuya-kun, you must not waste more time!" Dan alarmed him, albeit cautious and concerned.

"Right." Shuya nodded, and focused his sight at the dragoness in front of him. Doubtless, it was suicidally foolish to venture at the beast under the known conditions, but the lure of the uncertain, and the thrill of the unknown was stronger in certain people most would have suspected; indeed it was just such a lure, which had brought him at length to throw himself headlong at the malformed beast.

"Kobushi no Kaminari[3]!" The young warrior screamed with all determination reverberating through his lungs. He attacked with all his senses focused on Tsunade, who awaited the strike with excited zeal.

The temperature was rapidly ascending around her and the heavy fall of raindrops evaporated upon her frame and encompassed the dragoness in lurid mist.

There came a sudden, brooding stillness over the shelter, as by some voiceless order, the winds of fright dissolved and the three men not yet seeking covert anxiously pondered on the outcome. Not long afterward, an unearthly growl shook the earth, and briskly the beast started towards them.

"Darn!" Only a benign fate kept the curling vapor thick enough at the right moment, for it was constantly shifting and threatening to vanish. Indeed, it did lift for a second, just before Shuya could emerge from the nauseously heavy fog, so that he actually caught one first and only half-glimpse of the oncoming entity as he casted a final, desperately fearful glance backward before throwing a lightning sphere behind him, in the hope of dodging pursuit.

"I can't do this, I can't do this! I cannot hurt her!" He whimpered, afraid of hurting his friend, who was now, nowhere near to be the being she was remembered to be.

If the fate, which screened Shuya was benign, that which gave him the half-glimpse, was infinitely the opposite; for to that flash of semi-vision could be traced a full half of the horror which has ever since haunted him.

His exact motive in looking back again was perhaps no more than the sheer instinct of the pursued to gauge the nature and course of its pursuer, or perhaps it was an automatic attempt to answer a subconscious question raised by one of his heightened senses.

In the midst of his flight, with all his faculties centered on the problem of escape, he was in no condition to observe and analyze the details nor to find the best answer possible to the reparation of the situation.

The dragon's demoniac growl resounded behind his back, and the large golden eyes followed him effortlessly past the humid air. The end was near, and he could not brush off the tightening embrace of Death. Abruptly Shuya was halted by a familiar frame rising in front of him.

"Come on Shuya-kun. Make your father proud." Hiruzen's voice broke the torpor of the young soul, and the briefly lost courage was once more regained. As he was told so, the sharp lightning bolts reappeared in his palms, which he threw at full strength at the momentarily thinned mist and at the beast lurking within.

There was a growl, a painful roar, and quiet descending on the shelter. The sky above was a churning and opalescent mass of tenuous ice-vapors, and the cold clutched at the vitals but rain there was none anymore.

"Tsu-Tsunade-ryuu?" The child whispered, anxiety trembling his body. Vague horror began to creep into his soul, as there came no answer from the mist, no sound of unearthly monster or lovely cry of human throat. The fog gradually dissolved, giving back the sight of people.

It was when rushing forward, when he first felt the terrible fatigue and short breath, which the race through the thick air had produced, but not even the fear of the dragon could make the child pause from seeing what has happened in the invisibleness.

"Tsunade-ryuu!" He screamed as he fell with his knees upon the ground, and grabbed at the silken garments of the unconscious. Whither the robe was ripped, he placed his own cloak, and the small hands were gently patting the raw skin upon the cheeks. "Wake up. Wake up. I need to apologize." Shuya pleaded, invisible tears wetting his eyes.

Sorrow was quickly obliterated from his soul when the heiress' eyes opened, and a smile softened her features. "You did it, Shuya-kun."

Dan came to her assistance and the two aided the woman to rise back on her feet. "Are you all right, my Lady?" His eyes anxiously canvassed the one in his arms, who politely pulled away.

"Yes, I am all right. I was barely hit. It's just a scratch I can fix." She remained mild and kind in utterance, keeping the tender-hearted countenance on her. "I am sorry I failed."

"You didn't." The eldest Sarutobi interrupted, as he joined the group at last. "You didn't change completely. It means that the practice and meditation have use, after all. Do you remember anything, while you were transformed?"

"I do." She nodded in the affirmative. "I knew what I was doing, and at the same time I felt what the dragon felt and wanted. As if it was talking to me, showing me what it felt to be this immortal, angry spirit."

"You can talk to dragons?!" Shuya's eyes widened in surprise.

"She can." Hiruzen nodded as he glanced at the child.

"Woooow!" He marveled with mouth open.

"I am sorry I scared everyone." She then noticed the people hiding in any place they could find useful, slowly recruiting strength after making sure the danger was gone.

"I told them to run, it was safer that way." Hiruzen offered a rushed smile. "Finish your tasks for today and tomorrow we do it again. I wanted to see Shuya's powers, but as I assumed, your father taught you well." Upon that kind remark, he patted the child's head.

Tsunade nodded, and politely excused herself from the scene. Shuya followed her not long after, once the dark has befallen and only the grotesquely stricken trees and mauled long grass remembered the thunderous tempest of the day.

The heiress was sitting on the wooden porch, with a bowl of misoshiru[4] on her lap. She was struggling to eat, for hungry she was not, while Dan ascertained himself that she would always be heeded by him.

"Can I eat it?" Shuya asked chuckling and he took a seat beside her.

"Of course." She answered with a warm smile brightening her fatigued visage and handed the bowl of freshly made soup to him. He took it with zest, like a hunter finally catching his prey.

"Do you know what day it is, Tsunade-ryuu?" The boy beamed his deep black orbs at her, upon inquiring about such mystery.

"A terribly loud and rainy one?" Invisible wrinkles spread over her forehead as she at last admitted she had but the slightest of idea.

"It is Papa's birthday." He smiled so warmly, like the love of the sun for the world it pampered.

"Oh really?"

He nodded in the positive. "It is impossible to forget it. Did you hear the thunderbolts? Did you notice the rigid blackness of the sky? And the painful cry of the rain as it fell on the ground? The lightning only strikes one place, the lofty oak in our old garden." He began, taking his time with speaking, for eating was more important to the starving stomach.

"Why is that?" She grew curious in demeanor and thus turned her face to gain a better look at him.

"Obaasan[5] had a spirit in her just like you. She was able to create rain, and bring destruction by flooding places. If she was upset, or the spirit took over her body, she could kill people in their homes, simply controlling the fallen rain to leak into the houses and suffocate the victims by engulfing them. It was a vengeful spirit, really, but Obaasan was a kind woman. So, she got that necklace you have now and she did not hurt anyone anymore." Shuya mused, with the plate now half empty in his hands.

Upon that information, Tsunade's fingers lifted rapidly on her bosom to see if she put back the pendant, once the training was over. She took a deep breath of relief as the charm was there, and returned her sight at him. "I see…"

"She died today, when Papa was born. I read it in a family scroll, because Papa never speaks about these things in front of Mama. She says they are bad for my upbringing." With a frown, he halted himself in speaking, and took a rich sip from the soup.

"The scroll said that it was a summer day when the sun was blazing down from a sky which seemed almost black in its cloudless cruelty, as though reflecting the inky meadows beneath the feet. The weather oppressed the senses with its unholy heat and not even the approaching dusk could bring relief. The hot, yellow rays of the sun, which did not set, merely wheeled low around the horizon." He respited from talking for a brief moment, merely to finish the delicious dish.

"Obaasan grew febrile during the day and struggled with breathing the burning air. She wept but her tears dried up before reaching the ground, and not even the cold sweat upon her ghastly pale forehead could put her at ease. Papa was born at the nineteenth hour of the day, when a mighty thunderbolt struck the oak tree of the garden. She passed away in that instant, unable to glimpse at her son's face."

"The spirit was released from the lifeless body, but it carried the incessantly blazing despair and torment of Obaasan's heart. And black rain began to fell. Soon, to human ears came the nearby thunder of falling waters, and to human eyes appeared on the now black horizon the frightful, titanic spray of a monstrous cataract. Papa's parents' pain grew so tangible in the air, that the world became an abysmal nothingness, where Obaasan's tears poured from the sky and Ojiisan's agony reverberated in the effervescent strokes of lightning. Every year, the spirit remembers Obaasan's loss and reminds the earth about its tragedy."

The alteration on Tsunade's visage halted the child in furthering the furtive tale. He pulled a handkerchief out of his small pocket and handed it to the weeping heiress. "Do not worry, Tsunade-ryuu, you won't die when you have a baby." He said utterly calm and reserved, patting her in the back.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

By nightfall, the sky was growing lighter, and there were signs that the storm had worn itself away. The bright bolts of thunder gradually ceased and the shrill cry of birds was heard no more.

Kakashi's room was filled with ancient books of the tamest and most puerile kind, and hour after hour he tried to lose himself in their feeble pages. Since arrival, all he sought from life was not to think.

For some reason, he did not once utter to anyone, thought became very horrible to him, and anything, which stirred the memory, he fled as if from a plague. Friends and family he shunned in that splendorous, lofty palace, for he wished to answer no questions. Solitude became his joy, all the more joyous than life itself.

"Kakashi…" After several knocks upon the door, she easily unlocked the entrance and let herself into the quiet pandemonium of the samurai. The waiting has been too long, and time there was not enough.

Kakashi sat in quiet torpor upon the ground, with parchments and dusty papers scattered dispersedly around his frame. Memory seemed to pick itself up where it had left off, as he uplifted his stark orbs at the woman in front of him. "Hisana…" He paused, exhausted.

"Brother, it has been almost a fortnight…" The emaciated tone called the samurai to consciousness. She approached him carefully, the glow of concern within her eyes. "You missed your birthday…Ojiisan prepared all kinds of things for you." She uttered on an undertone.

Hisana, the only and younger sister of the samurai was a particular sight to behold. She possessed the traits so majestic and alluring of her family, which were in vain to wish to properly pen. In stature, she was tall and slender, her soft, café-au-lait skin glowing under the deficient light of the chamber. She was a spirit-lifting vision on two walking feet that agitated the tacit dweller with images of luscious passions.

She had the radiance of an opium-dream, sculpted with the finest hands of spiritualism. Her features were of not classical regularity, thus her visage bloomed through the dark eyes of exotic design, lips of sweetest luxuriousness, and a smile of most formidable creation.

"I apologize." He spoke, wanly. Kakashi did not live up to his aspect and manner as a hunter or as a samurai, but feigned a smile and lifted a book into his hands as if of taken great interest in the pages he had long memorized.

"You have to talk to me. If not to Mifune-sama, but talk to me. What happened in Konoha? What made you so somber?" But try as Hisana would, she could not make her brother speak of anything profound or hidden.

"Hisana…Could you…Could you leave me alone?"

"No, I won't, Kakashi." She insisted, albeit uttered her threat on a mild tone. She brushed away her silver tresses and straightened her posture.

The samurai looked gaunt and haggard, and certainly ill-pleased with her stubbornness. She was just like their father, there was no doubt about it. "I need you to leave me alone, Hisana."

"I am not a child, brother. You have spent almost two weeks here, you only eat when I bring you food, and your only concern apart from these books is when the samurai train outside. But you do not even speak a word to them unless it is completely necessary. What has gotten into you, Kakashi? Where is my brother, and what did you do to him?" She was short on patience, dearly she was, yet love was greater than flee upset from the chamber.

He watched and listened with his mind more than with his eyes and ears, and strove every moment to drown the truth of his sullen mood. "I just…I am a coward, Hisana. I cannot live with that. I am a coward. I was a coward. And now…I cannot take it back."

For Hisana, it was pitiful to note his response, and thus she compressed her lips before she spoke things it was better to leave unvoiced.

"What else", he added, "could ever, in any case, be proved or believed? But it would be well to say as little as could be said about the fact that I am as good as dog shit."

"Kakashi. You stop right now. You are a pitiable sight, brother, and never have I seen you long for pity."

"Hisana. I betrayed our master. Everything I had done as a samurai, it was to aid Madara gain the throne and take it away from the Senju. I felt it. I knew it was the case. Nonetheless, I followed the orders given. I did not question them when I did know, deep inside, that they were wrong." The ineffaceably scarred man began, by degrees, pouring his heart's content out.

"Why did you not do anything?"

Kakashi's feigned smile suddenly grew to a deplorable chuckle. "I needed money. For a family now I don't even have anymore."

"Where is Rin? Did she…Did she and Shuya-kun…?" And then, she felt the scars over his heart; ancient and invisible in the faint glow under the pale moonlight as they then were, she pulled him into a sisterly embrace. "Kakashi…"

"With Rin, we parted…The day before the battle. She has been in love with someone else. She took Shuya. I looked for him…I wanted him. I lost everyone. And now everything is lost."

"You can always stay here, Kakashi. This is your home too. And if Madara wishes to reach our borders, we can protect it."

"No…I must return…Konoha is my home, Hisana. I was born there. Shuya too. I just don't know if I am worthy of it…"

"Asuma said you did not become rounin, so do not talk to me as one. You have a leader, don't you?" She asked curiously, whilst she struggled to find the faintest light of motivation in the worn soul beside her.

"What if, by the time we return we have nobody to serve and nobody to fight for?"

"Is that how you feel? Is it a hunch, or your fear?" She lifted his chin up, seeking the answer herself in her brother's fatigued eyes.

"I dread it."

"You finish training in a few weeks, don't you? Your biggest enemy is in your head, not on the battlefield. Shuya-kun is a strong boy, he is a Hatake. He will find a way. And Asuma's father is still alive, he must be taking care of him. And your master…"

"Tsuna…Tsunade…Lady Tsunade." He corrected himself nervously and averted his eyes onto the ground.

"Lady Tsunade, yes… If she dies, and you all become rounin, you come back here."

"No, you do not understand, Hisana… I do not understand myself either."

"What? What don't I understand?" Hisana furrowed her eyebrows as she sought his reply; she heeded him curiously taking interest in the furtive tales of his forlorn soul.

"If she dies….I-…"

"Finally, my man 'Kashi!"

Before Kakashi could have finished, he was quick to be stopped in speech by his comrade who was by no means bothered by the very fact of intruding, and thus interfering with a conversation proven more than significant.

"What is it, Asuma?" Kakashi sighed, perturbed by the sudden company.

"Mifune-dono has been waiting for you. I ate all your cake, which, by the way, was rather delicious." The raven-crowned man shot a pompous smirk at his comrade who, albeit reluctantly, but at length rose from the ground and wiped the dirt off his kimono.

"I will find him. By the time I come back, leave this room, and leave me alone." He uttered on a tone insipid and lifeless, as if to belong to a corpse. Once more the samurai extinguished the despair within his chest and vanished from sight.

"Why is he so worked up? My old man will keep things in order until we get back. That bastard Uchiha won't stand a chance." Asuma uttered as he followed his friend with his eyes, but remained a few inches away from Hisana.

In her eyes, he looked soberer and more thoughtful, his habitual pout of childish rebelliousness being exchanged for a look almost of genuine wisdom. She was puzzled to decide whether she liked or disliked the change. Certainly, he seemed for the moment more normally adult than ever before. It was deeper, firmer, and more decisive than she had ever known it to be. "He believes that he betrayed Konoha."

"Ah. Well…" Asuma pondered, scratching the back of his head. "He did kill the Jira girl's father. But that was not entirely his fault."

"Jira girl?" She eyed him continually with an almost predatory air, with and intimacy that was beyond untangling.

Asuma there released a nervous chuckle and ran his hand through his raven locks. "Our master. That name just got stuck in my head."

"You seem to be awfully close with your new master, is that so?" Her voice thickened in both curiosity and perplexity.

"Trust me, I am not the one 'awfully close', to that girl." As he smirked, he too lifted his gaze at her. He had found her full of the interests and erudition, which engrossed him most, and was in addition, wildly taken with her appearance.

"You cannot possibly tell me, that-…" Hisana's sharp, cat-like eyes widened with the recognition. She could also feel her jaw drop, albeit not down upon the ground, but indeed drop in abashment.

"Not my place to gossip, although I do enjoy a hot, nasty story." Asuma sneered, unashamed of the truth spoken. In fact, he was not a man of shyness nor did he trouble himself with the subject of audacity around women. He was a samurai straightforward and two-fisted.

"Don't tell me hot and nasty stories about my brother. Just don't." She was swift to cover his mouth, upon which a long, satisfied smirk rested. "Stop smirking, Asuma. Or else!"

"Or else what, Hatake? Will you kiss me again? " The bronze skinned warrior's fingers wrapped around the woman's slim wrist, who grew red as dawn on the cheeks.

Hisana could not recall, even if she did try, just what her own part of the conversation was, for the insolent sally of the man filled all her consciousness. With every moment, her feeling of elusive cosmic desire increased, until at length she was in a virtual delirium of longing for the end of the conversation and thus allowing the body to speak for itself with no words expressed in verbal notion. "It was a mistake. You have Kurenai." She drew away from him in that instant, her heart rapid with the music of the ill-advised affair.

"It was last year. The night I kissed you. I still remember, you know."

"You shouldn't, Asuma. You shouldn't." She looked away from him, as his sight she could handle not.

"Why not? Didn't you enjoy it?" He was curious upon asking, whilst his eyes relished the sight of her. Was it a playful desire on the part of the woman? Was it a test of his strength of affection, that he should have instituted no disguised inquiries upon this point? "You are right. I have my Kurenai. It is better if we forget about it."

"It is. It is…"

She was like a lustful offering, on the blissful shrine of the most passionate romance, for it was wrong. The way he gazed at her was doubtlessly wrong as well, and thus all the more exciting to the man of insatiable vigor.

Without the slightest glimpse of hesitation or guilt, Asuma stepped in front of the woman and lifted her face upwards. His deep dark eyes luxuriated on the faultless skin rivaling the most delicious caramel, the glossy, naturally curling tresses, the commanding extent of the sangria lips, and the delicate outline of the nose, all the graceful ornaments as of the Chinese porcelain statues that possessed a similar perfection.

"Having a fortnight in one place with you, yet unable to be closer to you…"

"Asuma…" Hisana averted her eyes in feeble attempt to restrain the effervescent madness of the heart.

He let her not, however, and forced that flawless face to remain lock to his own. "When I am here, with you, I cannot think about anything else." He continued, his, intentions clear and astray. Asuma leered deep within her eyes, breaking the barriers with ease. He was a trickster, a gamer, who knew what he wanted. _He wanted her._

"You love someone else." She fought dearly to preserve the last piece of her self-restraint, knowing not if it was possible anymore.

"Do I, Hisana…? Does she...? Do you…?"

"I-…."

The sinful kiss had a luxurious smoothness as the soft mouths touched. She sighed against the polite, vagabond collision, and pressed her body against the wicked samurai's. The twirling of his tongue, the battle of the luscious, hungry organs was indeed a triumph of all things heavenly, whilst he suckled, nibbled upon the voluptuous slumber of the lower-lip, and pecked and kissed the magnificent turn of the upper.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

Kakashi took a lantern and went to the old garden of the Palace. The air was cold and stirred not. The moon was shining on the scattered wooden fragments and on the ground of spears of long grass, and the latch of the great door yielded readily to a touch from the outside. The stars leered down from the same place from the blackness, winking hideously like insane watching eyes, which strived to convey some strange message to those upon the earth, yet recalled nothing, save that it once had a message to convey.

"I knew you would come, at last." The gnarled old samurai smiled amidst tangles of beard when he caught the sight of the approaching man.

"You sent Hisana didn't you? To talk to me." Kakashi stopped beside the elder and greeted him with a polite bow.

"Of course I did." He replied in the positive and thus resumed, for the matters were urgent. On this occasion, he spoke of the perils to be faced and exhorted him, the bravest of the demon hunters, to sustain the traditions of his ancestors, who when facing a child of the Evil Goddess, wavered not on the act of murder.

Lines of puzzlement, and then anger deepened on Kakashi's face, and, shaken as he was, had barely poise enough to request the speaker to stop, who took the liberty on detailing the necessity of freeing this world from all that supernatural.

"And that is why you must-…"

"Forgive me, Ojiisan, but I cannot, I would not, and I will not do that. My father did not do that."

Mifune looked at his face whose expression of pain, defeat, and wistful hopelessness was poignant beyond description. He cleared his throat, and spoke unreserved. "Your father made a mistake, -which fortunately, corrected itself later." He made his voice as reassuring as possible. "You do not struggle with the same difficulties as he did."

"Which are?"

"He had this weakness in the heart. Thus, when the war had come, he did not die as a hero. My son passed as a sinner, whose loss was required for the balance to be restored. You have a family to go back to, and I urge you, Kakashi, to do what you must, to obey the rules, and get rid of that spirit. The dark lord's power reaches only as far as the dragon. Once you rid the world from it, Madara will lose his source of strength. You should have already done it, son. Why is there a halt in your actions?"

"We train harder and return in a few weeks. I will stop Madara, without killing the dragon. It was the plan when I came here and it is the plan once I leave." He talked of his plans in a strangely agitated fashion, to the elder's growing confusion.

"Shikaku-sama also agrees wi-…" He vociferated, albeit uncertain and his uncertainty was proven real, once he was stopped in speaking by the young samurai.

"Shikaku knows nothing!" Kakashi raved whilst he began to walk around the lord. "You know nothing, Mifune-sama! Nobody knows anything! You, Asuma or Hisana! You think this is easy, do you not? You think all we must do is fight! But what happens, when the people you are trying to protect are those who betray you? If they are those, you have to kill? What if your enemy is your ally and your ally is your enemy? How do you proceed? This is by no means easy!" Kakashi became exasperated to madness when despair entered his mind.

"I do not even know if my son is alive! Family? You speak of family? Which family you are inquiring about, huh? My wife has left me! I have no family to protect, I have no King to protect, and everything that had happened is on my hands! You want me to do what I am supposed to, as a hunter, but do you know what I have done, Ojiisan? I did not kill the dragon when I had the chance! Oh no! I gave my blood to that damned thing!"

Upon shouting, he laughed, for the words he spoke resounded with pitiable ridiculousness in his fervent upheaval. "It is alive! It is alive now! It is my master, Ojiisan! She is my new master and I worry for her more than I worry for Rin. I became everything I did not want to be. I am everything I have always despised in others."

Mifune indeed clutched for an instant, by a primitive dread almost sharper than the worst of his reasoned fears, regarding those words his grandson just spat. "Kakashi, listen to me."

"No, I may not listen to you. I will go back to my room and every morning I will be here to train with those damn idiots who chose to stand by my side. And when they are ready, we leave." He panted, whilst calmness slowly made its way to his heart.

"Listen, boy. If you believe that there's a chance of putting the dark lord out of business, without eliminating the dragon, then fine. But you cannot let something to live that was not meant to be on this earth. Spirits do not belong here. Not with humans."

"Did you say that to my mother too, or you are being pompous to me only? The samurai narrowed his eyes in anger as he at length stopped in front of the elder.

"I did, Kakashi. I told your father if he chose her, he had no business in the family. Thus, when she died, I felt happy. But my happiness was rapidly diminished seeing Sakumo's lamentable suffering; the way he struggled to raise you, pretending to be fine when he wasn't. You shouldn't love a monster, son. You should free the world from monsters."

"Sometimes monsters are not spirits. Sometimes monsters are humans. I married one. Damn I was stupid." Kakashi sighed, with his gaze on the stark black sky.

"Does anyone else know?"

"What? That Rin is a monster?"

"The way you feel about the spirit. Does anyone else know?"

"No…Perhaps Asuma, I believe he does." Kakashi replied, traveling his eyes back at Mifune.

"That good-for-nothing Sarutobi, hm?" Mifune frowned and nodded slowly. "You should keep it to yourself, as long as possible. For the sake of everyone. You do not want to put your son in danger over this, do you?"

"Of course not." The samurai nodded in assent. "I apologize, Ojiisan. For the way I acted. I never rage."

"That is a problem. You should." The elder offered a light smile, barely visible for ordinary eyes to behold. "Your father was the same. I had a similar dispute with him, as I have mentioned while as resuming, "men in our clan do not get on well."

"I see…"

"Now go, before we get too kind with each other."

"Yes, all right." Kakashi bowed and turn on his feet.

"Kakashi." Mifune called after him, after a few seconds of hesitation. "Happy birthday, boy."

* * *

[1] Yamigakure no Sato, new name of Konohagakure, meaning "Village hidden in the Dark".

[2] Earth Style, Earth Dragon Bomb

[3] "Fist of Lightning"

[4] soup

[5] Grandma


	13. Dreams Beyond

**_"A person has two passions for love and abhorrence. A big disposition to excessiveness has just a love, because it is more ardent and stronger."-Descartes_**

* * *

 **A few days ago…**

As the dismal night wore on, a violent storm of wind broke over the roofs of Yamigakure, and the men were glad that they rested snugly in the town.

Rin sat in total darkness in a chamber incumbent with chagrin, tormented by thoughts and memories that threatened to overcome her still strong will. As faith had urged her on, she was quick to diminish the poisonous thorns of misery.

Upon the impassable peaks and around the silent village, a terror had gathered and many believed it too faded; but the evil spirit of darkness and squalor lurked on amongst the men in the old wooden houses, and prowling bands still paraded on unwholesome errands past open dingy windows, where lights and twisted faces unaccountably appeared and disappeared.

The brunette woman took a long, shallow sigh, barely audible in sonority, yet rich enough in heartache as to reach those with the same anomaly.

"Do you have everything you need?" Suddenly, from the background there came a strong voice to perception, playing upon the harp of guttural tunes.

Rin turned her heavenly lined face ever so slowly in the direction of the perfectly articulated sounds, whilst her body remained almost as if completely motionless. "Not yet…" Said she, completely calm. Her eyes then returned to the sullen landscape that opened through the large windows and once more she grew lost within the beauty of suffocating darkness.

Madara offered a faint smile at the answer and leisurely, he took a seat upon the same velvet sofa.

"You know…My King…" She began, slowly, taking short pauses to utter each and every syllable with cunning languidity. Her deep maroon eyes never once lingered on the royalty beside her, and thus she remained in all her composedness, a strange observant with remarks even stranger. "This village feels like home, now. There is quiet, there is peace. It is still…Still like a pond where poisonous fish had long departed and there is but the stillness of the water and new lives are to be bred."

"Is it truly your opinion?" Madara listened with grave attention the longer she was to ponder loudly.

Indubitably, she was a young woman in years, and she belonged to a supposed daughter of a pious father, but in essence she was the kin of the unclean things, such a notion that truly excited the mind of the evil lord.

Rin nodded, and resumed after a short pause befalling on them. "Before, this place was loud, annoyingly so. The corners and the streets were filled with swinish men and loud chattering of ignorant women. There was respect for those who earned it by shedding blood. I never respected those…" upon that recollection, she took another halt in speaking, and shut her heart from unwanted sentience. "…those heartless things… There is no bloodshed anymore. No samurai... There is peace. Children are safe under your wings. You keep everything in control… Almost..."

"You shall help me change that." Madara replied demurely and brushed a raven tendril behind his ear. "You know, I realized long ago that one may crave terror as well as beauty, from life." The dark lord added, whilst he engaged his mind in the blackness in front of him.

"Your terror, as you name it, is born from detestable pain, like any other." Upon uttering those minutely chosen words, she took a glance at the royal beside her, and the unnaturally large eyes met his own. Rin could not deny, even if she wished so, that he was a very handsome man in appearance, as much as cruelty could adorn one's fine lineaments, but still that uncanny wickedness in his expression alienated extremely sensitive people.

Her remark was rewarded with another still moment that slowly passed above their heads. Madara did know what to reply but he did not wish to do so; to commit himself in the heart's true matters was not the role bestowed upon him, for his sole inheritance was the high state of vengeful desire. With immeasurable zeal he coveted everything erroneous, and ruinous, anything that excited his mind and let no drops of blood dry in his veins with dullness.

As the moment passed by, he at length straightened his posture and said "You must leave tomorrow. I believe Orochimaru prepared you about everything that may serve you well."

"He did, my King." Rin nodded in meek politeness and felt a faint light of smile spread over her heavenly features. The king could not help but notice the sudden change of her sweet lineaments, and with confusion wrinkled forehead, slowly he tilted his head in speculation.

The young woman compressed her lips upon beholding the ruler's unreserved gazing, for she could not decide whether she committed something wrong, with such ungovernable act of her as that she dared smile. Quickly, she shot her gaze down at the ebony floor when blush mantled her cheeks.

"What is so diverting to you?" Madara, who now grew truly curious, reached his hand towards the embarrassed girl and with a soft motion, he lifted her chin up so that she could look at him. His inky eyes narrowed in quest for answers to depict on her flawless face, but all was in vain, as he could not find anything but the red paint of shyness.

"It is…It is very hard to believe that all those ludicrous tales are true. Indubitably, my King, anything you say I shall very well accept and follow, but…" before finishing that sentence, another flash of smile flitted across her mouth. "…the legends that aver that this stupid wench could raise or quell storms of fire according to her whim, for me are yet to accustom myself."

"You had seen Orochimaru's laboratory, had you not? The experiments, and that electrical machine, glowing with a sickly, sinister, violet luminosity."

"I-I had…" Rin replied in the affirmative and gave a polite nod, yet her heart still doubtful; the furtive tales of the world never once reached her simple beliefs, and now, she was to face the power of gods she merely prayed to and considered but imagination.

It was in that moment, as she nodded and stared at the man beside her, with their eyes still locked, that within those deep dark orbs, the blackness was suddenly eradicated and blazing red tainted the irises. Madara mused at the aghast expression, which spread over her face and at the loud drumming of her heart someone could hear from miles away. "This is called the Sharingan."

"Sha-sharingan…" She repeated like an obedient student with her gaze fixed upon the King.

"All dark lords possess them. And this…" He resumed with a voice cold and composed. "This is the Mangekyou Sharingan."

Rin watched with utter awe and perplexity the rapid change within the King's eyes; it was first the mesmerizing alteration of his face that bewitched her, and then it was but the outside world, the chilly air and queer sensation, which came with a shiver that alarmed the feeble soul.

Abruptly, she looked about the immense royal chamber within which they sat, with the tattered south wall, dimly lit by rays which the everyday eye could not see. The far corners were all shadows, and the whole place took on a hazy unreality, which obscured its nature and invited the imagination to queer whimsicality.

Then, from the farthermost regions of remoteness, some strange sound softly glided into existence. It was infinitely faint, subtly vibrant, and unmistakably musical, but held a quality of surpassing wildness which made its impact feel like a delicate torture of her whole body. She felt sensations like those felt when digging their fingers in broken glass.

Simultaneously, a cold breeze swept across her body that emerged from the unknown darkness of the chamber. She waited breathlessly when she perceived that both sound and wind were increasing; the effect was to give her a sensation of fear mingled with torpor. Rin began to speak to Madara and as she did so all the unusual impressions abruptly vanished. "What was that? What was that?"

The lord, after a solid time of seriousness, released a cordial laugh and lightened the sullen air. "I was just teasing you." A wicked smirk played down his finely sculpted lips whilst he bathed his eyes in the woman's puzzled frame. He kept on watching her, his face lined with morbid amusement.

Without intention, he revived his thoughts about Yona, and the King grew briskly nervous. "I go now. I want everything to go as we planned. Am I clear?" His voice resounded with more firmness as he rose from the sofa.

"Yes, my King. You are." Rin nodded peacefully and she too followed the man's actions; first, she stood back on her feet as he did so, and gave a well-mannered bow in polite gesture.

However, before he could have betaken in his anxious zeal, she handed him a small bear plush that had rested by her side. "Princess Hinata gave it to me, and I fixed it. The eye was coming off and she accidentally ripped the right paw... She told me you read her every night, and albeit my… my request is rather audacious, I believe she would appreciate it more, if you returned it to her instead of me." Rin bowed again, in apology.

Madara took the lifeless object and gave a slight nod. "All right…Thank you."

Her candid smile put his mind in torpor, from which he could only escape by rifling from the scene. She watched him, her expression mild and tender. "Tomorrow… I will become someone." Rin uttered, a reminder of the unholy task bestowed upon her, which she considered redemption from the past, in which she was a mere observant but never an actor.

 **Meanwhile…**

"…And then I said; "pick me. Choose me. Love me…." Hisana sighed, the embarrassment not only visible upon her face but also in her voice. Shaking her head at length she resumed, now growing unable to look at her friend by her side. "I cannot believe I said that! How could I have said that?"

"You thought he felt the same, didn't you?" Kushina offered a faint smile of comfort to the younger woman, and patted her back as if to dissolve the incumbent sorrow that blanketed her existence.

"I was 16. Perhaps…Perhaps I was just too young for him."

"What did he say to you?" The redhead samurai asked on a cultivated tone, albeit in nature she had a temper like the blazing flames of fire. "What was his reply?"

Hisana shook her head in the negative. "It made no sense. It was stupid. He said…He said that sometimes certain rules necessitate unwanted actions and decisions to be made. And although he cannot pacify me with the answer I long to hear, I should hold onto the thought that suffering is one long moment which eventually fades."

"That sounds way too proper from someone like Asuma to actually phrase that out loud." Kushina narrowed her eyes as she pondered, the information deficient to carry out a proper verdict.

"Kurenai is a great person. I like her." Hisana confessed, the sensation of remorse growing greater within her bosom. "I do not blame him for choosing her; she is older, experienced and kind. And she is almost as good of a warrior as I am."

With that long line of thoughts, she bit upon her red lips and turned her gaze away from the mug of green tea that rested at the wooden table, around which they were leisurely seated. "I just do not understand why…Why he would say those things to me now. Injudicious of a man. He knows how I feel."

"Listen, Hisa." Kushina began, becoming serious after taking a sip from her tea. "Asuma is not like your brother or my Minato. He doesn't know what he wants."

"I doubt that…I believe he does know, but…Perhaps there is something. My clan is not the only unusual one."

"What is there to be? Like he is cursed?" The redhead warrior giggled as they descanted over such matters.

With a confiding expression, the youngest Hatake averted her gaze back at her friend. "Perhaps we were not even meant to be friends…I found a box of scrolls and letters in the attic, written long before things were settled in the world; almost a century before the War of Creation."

"And?" Kushina was now growing extremely curious.

"The calligraphy was familiar to me. Most of the kanji had vanished and the papers became stained, however, the lines that remained, I recognized the bygone penmanship; a handwriting so intensely and fundamentally like that of Lord Hiruzen. Also, have you ever noticed that during wars, _they are the last to return_? That none of them have ever been wounded? Or that I had never heard of Asuma's mother?"

There came a halt in the conversation in utter chaos before this apparent bit of unrelieved mystery. Only by degrees did they absorb what it seemed to imply, and slowly the redhead Uzumaki recruited enough strength to dare ask. "Are you saying that-…?"

Hisana nodded, gravely persuaded about the theory. There was no escaping the truth, but there were limits to this possible monstrosity. "Yes... It must mean that he is-…"

"Hisana!"

Before she could have finished the sentence and thus reveal her deepest concerns about the Sarutobi clan and of its members, the two women were suddenly interrupted by a new presence when the large doors opened.

"Ka-Kakashi…"

"Lady Kushina." The samurai bowed, albeit he appeared to have arrived in great zeal. There seemed to be a change in him, an added element of furtiveness in the clouded brain which subtly transformed him from an object to a subject of anxiety, though he was not one to be perturbed by any common event.

He riveted his black orbs at his sister who sat with agitated spirit, although her reason was of a different cause. "Hisana…" Kakashi began, addressing her at length in his mellow baritone voice. "Do you know where do I find Ojiisan?"

"No…" She shook her head in disaffirmation. "I don't. Why?"

"Do not worry…It is nothing serious… I apologize for my abrupt intrusion. I will go now…I will go and keep looking for him." He said with now no sign of nervousness save a barely noticed tendency to pause as though listening for something very faint. He was apparently animated by a symbolic torpor, something which did not remain unnoticed.

"Kakashi-sama. I saw Lord Mifune during practice this morning. He said something about having certain affairs to attend, in the village." Kushina spoke with unimpaired kindness in her voice.

His usually secretive behavior did not surprise her, nor did his mindset to grow lost in thinking even in the middle of discourse; however there was an unnatural notion in the samurai, the strange way his fist loosened and clenched, the fidgeting fingers moving restlessly by his side.

"Thank you." Was all he answered before he vanished from their sight.

What made the two women pause in confusion was not this circumstance alone, for that was nothing unprecedented or fundamentally suspicious, nor even the information he inquired about. It was the behavior which nonplussed them, implying that something was odd, perhaps even alarming.

"You should go after him Hisana."

"If I do… I do not think it will be of use. He hasn't talked to me for days. Something is up but he won't share it. He never does…" Upon that queer observation, a long deep sigh escaped through her lips. "I don't think he knows how to do that. I will ask Ojiisan later, after my brother found him first. That is what I always do..."

 ** _Later that day…_**

Kakashi retired early and full of agitation, for he believed a dreamless swoon may ease the torment within his soul, and for a long time could not sleep in the uncanny silence of the bedroom. It was very dark, for although the sky was clear, the moon was now well in the wane, and would not rise until the small hours.

And that evening his dreams of ordinary carnage came to a sudden and disquieting end; for upon the village in the snow he saw a pestilence descend, and then a frightful avalanche of wooded slopes that covered the dead bodies in the small, narrow streets and left unburied only the shrine of Raijin, the god of Lightning on the highest peak. Kakashi woke suddenly and in alarm. For some time he could not tell whether he was waking or sleeping, for the sound of sharp cries and pleas still rang shrilly in his ears.

He sprang out of bed and paced to and fro in the stark blackness, until a knock upon the doors brought him back to reality. Altogether, this combination of nightmares burying his mind when asleep and awake, mementos of the past and horrible visions of the future represented some disturbance of genuine gravity, which no doubt formed the basis of his growing resolve to find a way out of it.

The door partially opened and a pair of life-eaten eyes beamed through the thick darkness. "Care for some dinner, boy?" Lord Mifune's hoarse yet composed voice reverberated amidst the four walls and the damnably still sound brought momentary peace within the samurai's bosom.

"Yes. I was looking for you all day." He said, at length.

"I know. I will be at the Dining Chamber. Find me there." Lord Mifune replied simply and closed the door.

He saluted the younger samurai with an air of profound respect, slightly blended with a fatherly and patronizing admiration.

Not long afterwards Kakashi appeared at the long table. The two dined and the eldest announced that he would begin the preparations for war in two days. Kakashi was glad, for although he disliked knowing this place endangered, there was a growing wish to put an end to the miserable state into which the world was gradually slipping.

"The only saving grace of the present is that it's too damn stupid to question the past very closely." Lord Mifune mused whilst he picked up a piece of salmon with his chopsticks.

"Our ancient lands are dreaming gorgeously and overflowing with wonder, terror and escapes from the commonplace, and yet there's not a living soul to understand them. Not even Madara knows how to properly profit by them, and thus by degrees we are reduced to the worthiness of dumb beings, watching this world fall down once again. However, it will not hurt those with ordinary mental cast for it will happen unperceived."

Kakashi kept playing with the chopsticks, twirling them in his ramen; since it appeared unlikely that he could continue to deal with the outside world much longer, let alone by himself, he became embittered by the truth.

Lord Mifune analyzed his composition with much freedom and great ability to decipher the thorns within his heart, and thus to correct himself became imperative. "Boy, you sought for me all day to talk and now you are still as a grave. You want to leave do you not?"

"I did… I do." Kakashi put down the chopsticks and leaned back in the chair with a sigh passing from his lungs. "There is no use, is it? We are only a bunch of idiots with swords hanging on our sides, wishing to save everyone. There are enemies in front of us far beyond our imagination and power. I should let my people live. If the tree of war bears no fruit but rots from within, all I become is a mass murderer. I become Madara, for I forced my people to follow me. I would be an unholy villain if I did it."

The elder could not help observing the change in his language and manner. "If that is how you truly feel, I want you out of my Palace. That is not the boy my son raised, nor the person I let into this land."

"I had sent…I had sent my hounds back to Konoha and they haven't returned. I had brought thunder to seek familiar sounds within the bolts of lightning but that place is quiet. I wish, most heartily, that it was all but a wicked trickery from the Uchiha to keep us out of his territory, and that my hounds are simply lazy to come back because my son spoils them with care, but I do not believe that anymore. What if all the people we wished to save are long dead?"

"Your task is to save one person only. Not even your family can compare with the importance of your master. Do not forget who you are." Lord Mifune replied with firm intention to put the wayward son back on the right path.

"But don't you see how hilarious that is? We had fought over that, and you are right. My master is an even bigger enemy than Madara. So what is there to be done? Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing. I feel like I am going insane, for I cannot stop worrying.

"Upon the whole, you judge wisely. Nothing makes sense. Everything is all but ridiculously mad. But Kakashi, there is a reason you were born into this clan, and what you had been given. Also, there is a reason for that girl to be confided with that spirit. Shuya is alive and I am certain that they are in danger."

"How would you know that?" The samurai questioned him as delicately as he could; he was aware that the Hatake clan had a remarkable spiritual rapport with certain souls from the past but only appeared to sight and such invisible bonds were tangled when ceremonies were to take place. Mifune could have not possibly sought insight through them; the matter was of a completely different nature.

"I cannot tell you, now, however I will, when it is time." The lord spoke slow and coldly. On the whole, it was obvious that he knew far more than anyone else did. Of that there could be no doubt. "You cannot disgrace me with doubt, boy, I will not allow that from you."

Kakashi rose from the table, without a remark uttered and bowed deep upon the ground in act of ashamedness.

Lord Mifune vacated the comfortable chair in which he had seated and lifted the samurai back on his feet by pulling him up by the ear. "The sword you brought with you was beyond repair, and I never expelled someone without weapons." He began to speak. In utter calmness, he watched the young samurai in front of him, that resembling face lined with the same curiosity and puzzlement he had once seen on its progenitor.

"Take mine. I give you four days to return, with my great-grandson and that damned beast. Hisana will most certainly want to follow you, so I will lie. If you make me lie and fail me, I shall make sure you are reborn as an Uchiha, the most disgusting abnormality on this earth. Do you understand me boy?"

"I do." Kakashi replied with enthusiasm, and did not falter; his hands welcomed the unusual touch of the ancient katana, and his black eyes took an observant look at each inch of the weapon in awe.

"Now leave. I need to rest. I ate too well." Mifune added, and bowed politely in front of him. "Do not confide in everyone you meet there. Remember that."

"I will…" Thus ended the conference with the best of men, and immediately upon its termination, Kakashi betook himself with zeal to the presently called Yamigakure.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

Tsunade's nervous condition was reflected in her dreams, for she seemed to hear the cries of drowning people, and to see dead faces pressing against the windows of the small chamber within which she sojourned.

Among those dead faces were the mocking ones of those recently departed, and other she could not recognize yet dreaded to see again. The willow fringed river, the oily surface of the pestilential water, the suffocating stench of blood dripping from the necks of those floating perversions were usual guests in her dreams, from which she was oftentimes shaken by Shuya.

The dwellers in the hideout were not as happy as they might have been, for most of them seemed uneasy over some queer sensation which they had had, yet which they tried in vain to explain. Soon people fell ill and lives withered in the neglected garden. The air became filled with the lethal, charnel stench of the plague-stricken shelter and even the royal light of the sun seemed to shun them.

The heiress applied her extreme medical skills with a whole-hearted energy, and each day she worked with the growing physical fatigue and nervous exhaustion.

Today did not seem to differ from those before, as she awoke soaked in sweat, drawn to consciousness by the zest of the child beside her. Shuya spent each night beside the woman since the day he was brought into the recess, believing to be aid by keeping a good eye on her.

Shortly afterwards she presented herself at the small tent of discussion, where Lord Hiruzen and Dan have been patiently waiting. She had previously applied generous amount of makeup to cover the cadaverousness of the skin, and thus avoiding Dan's long speech about taking a better care of herself.

"Are you going somewhere?" The long-haired warrior asked as she at length entered the company.

"Why would you ask that?" She uplifted her golden eyes at him, after she bowed to greet the two elder.

"The makeup…You do not need it, unless you are…" Dan began but he was interrupted by her abrupt retort.

"I do as I please. I want to look pretty whilst people avoid me." Despite a strong physical resemblance to her mother, her appearance and conduct were in many particulars so resembling to Tobirama that she was universally shunned. Though she did not inherit madness, which was feared by some, she was a potential threat to uncontrollable violence.

"We are running out of herbs. Our people are being poisoned and I do not have the slightest of idea how. We had already changed every resource. This is how we will end up? The Uchiha are just low bastards."

Her fingers clenched in tight fists as she spoke, and the longer she did so the more enraged she became. The pendant in her bosom controlled the spirit well, however it lacked effect on her human soul. "I am strong enough. I can kill them. I will go now and kill Madara."

"You wouldn't get halfway, Lady Tsunade." Lord Hiruzen took a step closer to her, his face lined with concern. "You may have learnt to control the dragon but you cannot outsmart him alone. Not with your temper."

"Temper? What temper?" The disbelief with which she uttered those detestable words burnt with the flames of a fiery soul and she pranced in rage. Before she could have furthered, the ground cracked underneath her feet and she tripped in the ungoverned traces of her anger.

"As I said, Lady Tsunade…" Lord Hiruzen resumed on a cultivated coarse tone, while he grabbed the woman and pulled her back upon her feet. "You need company."

"Who? Dan? He is smart." She replied, wishing to diminish the burning sensation that mantled her cheeks.

"No. Someone who is more experienced in fights and has never been once defeated in war."

He did not have to further, and her heart skipped another beat.

"Kakashi." She uttered his name ever so carefully, as if her tongue was caressed by the softest drops of tea, that only in heavens they served. "I need Kakashi." Tsunade's face beamed with the same light her heart welcomed the vision of him. "I go and find him. Tell me exactly how to find him and I go. You can take care of Shuya for me, right? He is going to be fine now, right?"

"Did his headache stop?"

"It did. He said he can see well with his Rinnegan. Whatever it is…" The heiress realized as she spoke that she had but the slightest of idea what it truly signified.

"The Rinnegan is the eye of gods. Whoever is in possession of it may see through the invisible gates of worlds. However, people do not acquire an eye like that, they are born with it. In the oldest of parchments there are only two known possessors of the Rinnegan, rising whenever a great change was close."

"How can Shuya have just one, then? It is Orochimaru's doing isn't it?"

"I believe so, yes." Lord Hiruzen nodded, his arms closed over his chest as he pondered. "About the reason I have little doubt."

"Why would he do it?" Tsunade tilted her head in wonder. "Does it have to do with gods?"

"Most certainly." His answer had a cold and nonetheless startling nature. "15 years ago the two Senju brothers and Madara were blessed with God Izanagi's strength, who bestowed the greatness of protection, the skill to fight injustice and the will to set goals. However, Madara's greed became insatiable and he corrupted the gift given to him. He is not invincible, since he lost the source of energy when you, Lady Tsunade vanished from his sight. The Rinnegan can open the portals to communicate and see the gods. I believe he wants to gain immortality with a ritual offered to Goddess Izanami."

"Is that possible? Can gods just give us powers?" She drew her notice to the curious.

"There is always a sacrifice needed. Evil makes deals easier, whilst Goodness lends its pure will in faith to be used for something greater. Most spirits, as most Tailed Beasts are not good or bad, but they are forced to serve sides when stronger forces decide above them. What humans do to them is blasphemy in their eyes. We are supposed to look up at them, fear and pray to them. But people like Madara merely see all that power that can be gained."

"I will protect Shuya. Nobody will hurt him while I am alive." She replied decisively. "I will find the other dragons if I have to and ask them to join us; whatever it takes to protect Shuya and Konoha, I must do it!" Only the language of supernatural could have wholly described the enthusiasm with which she spoke.

"Calm down, Lady Tsunade. You are not alone. To win a war, we must know the enemy. The fact that we do puts us in advantage. Everything has its time. What we can do now is to be patient and walk with eyes open, as even a small misstep can decide the outcome of all things." The elder said on a reserved tone.

She nodded in comprehension and took a deep breath to calm the storm within her heart.

There was something very disturbing about the crowd that meanwhile grew restless outside. There was a suggestion of queerly disordered people running upside down on the streets, as if to be looking for something or someone.

"What is happening outside?" Dan too speculated, when a laborer entered the tent whose face came to them with less pleasant associations.

"Lo-Lord Hi-Hiruzen…" He stuttered, fatigued from the rushing, and heart elevated with confused worry. "We-we found someone at-at the gates. She-she was unconscious! We-we brought her in."

Hiruzen's mind, as alert as his senses, recognized the gravely unusual, and almost automatically he seized the two other beside him and dragged them out by their shoulders. "Follow me."

"That is exactly what we are doing." Tsunade perceived the unhealthy sharpness within the elder's tone and decided upon obeying to his wishes instead of a remark rather audacious.

The woman lay upon the feathery spears of long green grass, crowded by others who assumed no use in awaking her; they were merely observers, aghast and puzzled how someone was to find this well-hidden place.

"There she is." Dan spoke as they at length caught up with the tumult's universal excitement. In the midst of that strange obstacle came a fresh horror which brought unuttered cries to quiet lips and sent chills down the spine. For a brief moment none of them dared speak and quietly they wondered what was there to be done.

The presence of the swooned was alarming beyond description while none of them fully comprehended exactly why; there was an air of suspenseful fear that gradually descended on the recess.

Tsunade, at length crouched beside the woman, her gaze lit by mixed and uncertain beams. She patted the invalid's cheeks with gentle motions, until she would be to make sure that the elder could come back to alertness. What thoughts or judgments the sight brought down upon her head, she could not quite fathom, for a sudden sense of remorse effected in her bosom. She has not been completely honest, after all, and now, it deemed inevitable that such was to be corrected. "Rin? Are you all right?" She asked on soft undertone, as if afraid of her own voice.

Not long afterwards Rin's large maroon eyes opened and she welcomed the sight of the people above her head. Shuya sat with unmitigated anticipation beside the heiress, in a high state of joy and of excitement. He was the first she brought into her arms upon sitting up, and she held him very tight with all the loving of a mother. "How did I get here?"

What made people wonder in confusion was not her state of unconsciousness, for that could have been considered not fundamentally suspicious, nor even the circumstance by which she had been found alone.

It was but the cryptic discourse of the woman which nonplussed the three, implying as it did a virtually complete loss of memory concerning important matters of which she was supposed to be easily aware.

Something was wrong; for despite the apparent coherence and rationality of her speech when being gently investigated, there could be no normal reason for this ill-concealed blankness on vital points.

That day Rin wandered alone in the sun-gilded shelter and talked now and then with idle laborers, for Shuya was busy with training with Tsunade. The dwellers in the shelter at length returned to their daily tasks after temporarily abandoning the unusual events; so did the heiress and the two samurai, as practice was imperative in their case.

As twilight deepened, a bowl of vegetable soup with crackers was enough for Tsunade and she soon headed back for her cheerless room she shared with Shuya. After a short discussion with Lord Hiruzen, she grabbed a medical book for the evening at the rickety stand of an evil-visaged seller.

She lit a candle over the cheap, futon bed, and tried as best she could to continue the reading she had begun. She felt it advisable to keep her mind wholesomely occupied, for it would not do to brood over the abnormalities of the ill-shadowed shelter while she was still within its borders.

Hiruzen's warning about Rin did not release her from its anxious grip, no matter how she struggled to keep her focus on the pages in front of her. Her behavior did not deem unusual while there was that wicked glint in the eyes leaving them alarmed.

She wished not to dwell on the fact that now Shuya's mother was mostly aware of the truth Tsunade dreaded to reveal to her, as trust came hard to give and was even harder to keep. Another thing that disturbed her was that nauseous stench above the river that leered around from every side of the water. She had noticed only today but had no time to minutely examine the case.

In her nervousness she looked around, however the small chamber was wholly at peace. She awaited drowsiness to come, and thus decided to read until it would occur so; the light would not bother Shuya now, as she believed the child wished to spend every second with his mother.

After a time, nonetheless, amidst the sounds that seemed magnified in the night she caught herself unconsciously listening for familiar footsteps. The small stairs on the porches creaked at intervals and she wondered if the other rooms were beginning to fill up. The chatterings and mutterings ceased, and the young woman debated herself whether it was advisable for her to retire to bed as well. Fatigue did not come yet, and thus she returned her eyes at the book. Not long after her ears caught the sound of rapid steps and before she could have averted her eyes, a warm embrace welcomed her from behind. "Shuya-kun!"

"Tsunade-ryuu!" Shuya giggled and left a kiss on her cheek before the child crouched himself under her arm. "What are you doing? Were you waiting for me?"

"I was just studying some… I thought you would sleep beside your mom."

"I was with Hiruzen-sensei. Mama seems strange, Tsunade-ryuu. I thought it better to leave her alone." He answered on a casual tone, not quite troubled by the furtiveness of the recess. "Will we sleep now?" He asked, whilst he wiped away the fatigued look from his face.

"Yes, sure." Tsunade offered a mild smile and closed the medical book. She did not inquire further information from him, as surely it would have been cruel to shake his good heart with dreadful visions about his mother. Perhaps tomorrow she would investigate herself before terrible things were to descend on them. Tsunade blew the candle and threw herself down on the hard, uneven futon. Her arm reached over Shuya who rapidly drifted into dreamless swoon.

In the darkness a flood of doubly unpleasant thoughts swept over her. She was sorry she had put out the light, yet was too tired to rise and turn it on again. Then, after a long, dreary interval, and prefaced by a fresh creaking of stairs, there came that soft, damnably unmistakable sound which seemed like a malign fulfillment of all her apprehensions. Without the least shadow of a doubt, the lock on their door was being tried; cautiously, furtively, tentatively and with a key.

"Shuya-kun…Shuya-kun, please wake up." Slowly she took her arm away from the child and began to give gentle nudges to the boy to awake. Her sensations upon recognizing this sign of actual peril were perhaps less rather than more tumultuous due of her previous vague fears.

She had been, albeit without definite reason, instinctively on her guard, and that was to her advantage in the new and real crisis, whatever it might turn out to be. Nevertheless, the change in the menace from vague illusion to immediate reality was a profound shock, and fell upon her with the force of a genuine blow.

The cautious rattling ceased and the room was entered with the key. Within the complete darkness the heiress grew motionless and rapidly placed her palm over the boy's mouth. Hoarse baying came from outside and loose-syllabled cries bore little resemblance to human speech.

Tsunade listened very quietly and without a light. As she considered the inevitable end, her mind ran over preceding events, and developed a hitherto dormant impression which would have caused a weaker and more superstitious man to shudder.

Her impulse to search out the mystery of the room axed still more insistent and thus, quietly she rose from the ground, and with a gentle motion she pushed Shuya behind her.

They both kept deathly quiet, awaiting the intruder's next move. Indubitably it was perceived that their chances for a simple misguided fumbler were very slender, and thus she was fully prepared for any calamity.

In another moment, however, Tsunade received a still greater shock in the form of a sharp sensation striking in her stomach. For a moment she simply held her breath and waited. Eternities seemed to elapse, and nausea overwhelmed her. The room's air became filled with metallic stench and the worn robe upon her body was rapidly becoming soaked with a liquid proven thicker than water.

Another sharp sensation succeeded when she knew that the time for action had come and forthwith she lunged at the invisible attacker in front of her. With a dazed automatism which persisted despite the terror-stricken state she found herself in, the heiress threw the intruder at the farthest extremity of the room, and in agitated zeal her hands grabbed the clothes of futon of the ground.

Above her fingers which wrapped around the material barely perceivable flames were ignited, by which she set the bed on fire, only to grant them enough light to see who the intruder was.

For an instant, upon beholding the attacker at the corner, she felt absolute despair. A wave of deplorable horror swept over her and invested with an inexplicable singularity. "Shuya-kun, do not look! Close your eyes. Keep them closed!"

Her impulse to get the boy out safe and sound had now become an inexplicable and imperious command which ultimately couldn't be denied.

"Nobody will hurt him, the problem is you. Step away from my son." Rin's voice was soft and light and the woman was a strangely bewitching sight to behold, as she stood with a dagger in her hand, the blade dripping with crimson.

"I never hurt you! I never hurt Shuya-kun! The Rin I knew never would have done any of this." Albeit she fought to shed light on the truth, her attempts were futile.

It was this series of grief which unhinged the mind of her opponent and thus drugged her with the sweet taste of insanity. "You do not have any idea of who I am, dragon. You do not know me. You do not know how hard it is to live without being in control of it. To live with people deciding upon your fate. To have no word in anything. You are just a spoiled kid who has but the slightest of idea what it is for a simple woman with no wealth whatsoever, to live and serve the demands of this era." Rin's gentle features became lined with sorrow.

Ultimately, the meek soul within her turned sick with hate, and anger, disdain and black faith gave new visions for a better tomorrow. "King Madara cares about every person in Yamigakure. He watches over us as a god. He wants us to live a life we want, not one we are told to. There can be peace. There can be joy. If you and your kind are finally diminished."

"You cannot kill me, Rin. You are only human."

"I came for my son." She began with a wicked glint within her eyes; before Tsunade could have deciphered the reason of the sick beams, Rin's hand turned the handle and the door opened. "But they came for you."

Tsunade was paralyzed for an instant. Imitating Rin's listening, there came a faint laugh sound somewhere, and a series of cries and shouting in a direction she couldn't determine. Then there came a subdued sort of clatter which somehow set her all in goose bumps, a furtive, groping kind of clatter and the other rooms were now crowded with suffocation. "They are coming!" called somebody on the stairs outside. "They are coming!" said somebody farther up. "They are coming!" cried somebody farther still.

Shadows thickened around the shelter, for the night was near. Once a gap in the trees opened up to the right, so that people could see wild pairs of red eyes lit like majestic stars of the black horizon.

"The Uchiha." Tsunade's rage was unbounded upon uttering those detestable syllables, yet her sense forbade her to venture unprepared into a fight she had not properly measured. As she thought of them new terrors convulsed her, and she took a step backwards to make sure nobody would dare touch the trembling child at the wall.

The bright red orbs stood erect at the door, more pairs biding enter until this chamber too became filled with the malicious warriors of the diabolic clan. The heiress's amazement did not prevent a narrow scrutiny of the men's clothing and appearance.

The outlines of their figure, handsome but lean, and much above the common height, were rendered minutely distinct, by means of a faded black kimono which fitted well but was otherwise cut very much in the style of a century ago.

"I guess Madara has no sense of style after all." Tsunade remarked with a sharp tongue.

Immediately upon uttering those words, the pursuers all together started at the woman in front of them. The awful event was very sudden but not wholly unexpected. In the room there burst the most appalling and demoniac succession of excited roars succeeded by frightened scream.

Like a stricken animal, the young woman flew towards the crying, shock-stricken boy, whilst in the background the noise of overturning furniture agitated her. She stumbled frantically forward when she found herself halted, and screaming and struggling madly in the arms of two men.

Within the next moment the fragile frame wallowed in the filth of the wooden ground, black boots enclosing her to a circle. Escape she saw none, for the dread was greater than courage, and thus the mind grew blank with frightened convulsions. Her throat grew dry with the pleading to leave Shuya alone, the sight of him being dragged away sending numbness to her cells.

The Uchiha's rhythmical breathing which seemed to measure moments of supernal fear and agony, -for their spirits wandered in spheres forbidden, unimagined, and hideously remote- nauseated the girl, and the tension of her capture became oppressive. They watched the groveling victim with a morbid fancy in their eyes, as they surrounded her like an incumbent fog of black smoke.

A wild train of trivial impressions thronged through her almost unhinged mind and she stared paralyzed under the crowd of monstrous bastards. The wild succession of pain that ensued did not quite startle her nor the growing flames of fire she had before started.

Through her misery a new, wholly distinct component of voice piped, and she shuddered at its familiarity after a long time of hearing it. Suddenly there came another burst of an acute shock but of different nature, which seized her and despite her exhaustion and mental numbness, Tsunade found herself starting frantically to a sitting posture and gazing at the shrouded beasts around her.

The frames of the Uchiha convulsed in perfect synchrony engulfed by bright blue bolts of lightning; it reminded her to the dance of thunder, yet the smell of burnt skin shed a highly disadvantageous light on the subject.

"Kakashi!" Immeasurable happiness soon drove out fear and driven by such impulse, Tsunade at length stood from the ground and lunged at those rifling from the scene. The bodies rapidly piled up under their feet and the large flames of fire destroyed the remains of the intruders.

"Shuya, where is Shuya-kun?" The thought of him set upon her soul such a seal of fright she believed it was impossible to unlock. She stumbled towards Kakashi who seemed by no means satisfied with the present situation, notwithstanding the triumph over the group of raven-crowned shinobi.

"He is outside, safe." He replied coldly as he cleaned the blade of his katana.

"Safe? But the-…"

"They are dead. Shuya killed them."

"What?" She couldn't believe her ears, nor she could fathom the samurai's rigid behavior. "I need to see him." She added, rushing from the enflamed chamber.

Outside, there was pandemonium; the Rinnegan's power unleashed. And she looked, she beheld the heads afar from the bodies, the black, liquid, and deep-sunken eyes blank in terror, and the thin, shadowed lips part as if for a scream unable to utter.

Shuya's condition was now one of indescribable chaos as he stood in the center of the marred, mangled corpses. Not knowing whether he was mad or sane, sleeping or waking, he was saved only by a merciful numbness. The horrors of the situation roused his deepest superstitions. He felt that he had witnessed the death of a whole village, by his very own hands.

"Shuya-kun!" Tsunade screamed with a voice now hoarse, and hastened to the paralyzed child. "You saved the people, Shuya-kun. You saved the people. That is all that matters." Before he could have been allowed to react, she was quick to pull him into her arms and soothed the trembling body with gentle strokes upon the back.

"We have to leave. Madara must already know of his defeat. We must leave before he comes. We do not have much time." Lord Hiruzen broke the silence of dismal and exchanged glances with Kakashi. "You go ahead, and I will catch up shortly."

The silver-crowned samurai gave a nod in assent and stepped to his son. Tsunade handed the boy obediently and compressed her lips to halt herself from questions it was not the time to utter. Kakashi did not even look at her, but simply ignored her very existence, or so she believed. The samurai beckoned the survivors to follow him, and with reluctance and a hurt pride, she obeyed to the unvoiced commands.

"You are injured…" Dan whispered as he walked beside the heiress.

"I'm fine." She retorted, and placed her hand over the wounds.

"You need stitches." He was persistent and excessively worried.

"I said I am fine, Dan-sama. I can heal this by myself."

The two spoke no more as they betook on the way towards the Land of Iron.

 ** _A day after…_**

The heiress was very drowsy, for the travel of a whole day had been wearying and the journey had reached late into the night.

The splendor of the Palace burst through the gates as they opened in front of the group. She knew the family to be wealthy. Gossips among the samurai had spoken of the Hatake's possessions in terms which she had even ventured to call terms of ridiculous exaggeration.

But as she gazed about her, Tsunade could not bring herself to believe that the wealth of any clan, including the one to which she belonged, could have supplied the princely magnificence which burned and blazed around.

Kakashi's home in Konoha was modest and cunning in its small size. Simplicity was adorned with affection instead of gold decorating each corner. Her astonishment lay in the fact that the samurai struggled each day with money instead of bathing in the richness within which he was born.

Her eyes slowly traveled from the lofty walls and met faces yet unknown to her. She greeted the dwellers of the Palace with a deep, generous bow, however with the same suddenness a servant showed her to a room, which was in the remotest corner overlooking the land.

"I knew you would make it." Lord Mifune spoke with a soft smile of pride.

"Why was she taken away? I told everyone they could dine and then go and rest."

"They can." The elder nodded and beckoned to take Shuya from Kakashi's arms. "The servants have been preparing meal all day. She will have a tray brought to her room."

"She is royalty. What is the meaning of all this?" Albeit slightly upset, the samurai kept his speech in undertone not to awake the sleeping child.

"She might be a royalty there, but she is just a demon here. I share my table with people. Go and eat. And talk to Hisana, she was worried for you." And thus the short conversation terminated.

Kakashi bowed and did as he was told so, for to argue with Mifune was simply fruitless of an act, as he always came out victorious and right.

The night had peacefully elapsed on the cloudless sky. Complete darkness engulfed the earth and life retired for several hours.

Just as Tsunade dropped to sleep she fancied she heard faint sounds from the distance; she rubbed her eyes and sat up on the bed when the door slid open, through which a shadow sneaked. "Who are you?" The blonde woman swallowed fear, eradicating the recollections of Rin's insane effort of murder. Her fingers clutched at the soft material of the sheets and she drew her legs underneath her.

"It's me, Kakashi." The samurai appeared at the edge of the futon bed with a bowl of warm soup. "I figured you were hungry."

Tsunade nodded and slowly, after a short pause of hesitation she sat closer to the man. Her hands reached for the soup, when he placed it farther from them and grabbed the invalid by the collar of her nightgown.

"Just what on earth were you thinking, huh? What had gotten into you? Allowing those bastards to torture you like that."

"Wh-…" Tsunade blinked a couple of times, his fuming expression sending shivers down her spine. "You mean the Uchiha?"

"Who else would I be talking about? Are you this dense in the head, Tsunade Senju? Are you this damn ignorant to do nothing when I heard praises of your powers? Tell me, are this stupid, woman? You scared me, you scared me to death!"

Invisible tears wetted her eyes and for a brief moment she fought them to see properly. "I apologize…I saw Shuya-kun being taken and I panicked. I couldn't think of anything else but him suffering. I broke down. I couldn't escape the thoughts in my head. I didn't mean it…"

"I heard you were the one saving him, is it true?" He tugged at the robe and yanked her closer to him.

"I…Well Dan-sama helped me…" She stuttered, her heart now beating frantically in her throat.

"You took excellent care of him, why?" Kakashi narrowed his eyes whilst his breath caressed the heiress' chin, painting her skin with the brush of gooseflesh.

"He is your son and I really like him…"

Suddenly, he spoke no more. His fingers let go of the robe and welcomed the confused woman in his arms. Kakashi held her with confiding affection, an embrace ever so comforting and warm that so she grew unmindful of the world and of its horrors. Her arms reached around him slowly, and she pressed her petite frame against the samurai, finding peace impossible to pen. Her face rested in the perfect curve of his neck whilst his fingers untangled her blonde tendrils. "I have missed you Tsuna."

"I have missed you too, Kakashi."


	14. House of Thorns

**_The course of true love never did run smooth. -Shakespeare_**

* * *

It was the darkest hour of the night, when the moon shone faintly through the crooked boughs and dead stillness pervaded the cold atmosphere.

Kakashi's mind, however, was too much occupied to let him sleep, and so he lay the whole night buried in meditation. He kept quite still and said nothing, for intention he had none to arouse the one beside him. Hence, for hours he did not move a muscle and remained completely rigid. A repulsive calmness overspread the surface of his body the longer he was lost in speculation and the limbs slowly grew benumbed by the position within which he rested.

Presently, he heard a slight groan, and he knew it was the groan of human terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief, -oh no, it was the low stifled sound that would arise from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with misery. Kakashi knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when the entire world slept, it has welled up from his own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors of the past and present that distracted and oppressed him.

The samurai listened, in extremity of horror. The sound came again; it was a sigh. With carefulness, he took his arm away from the woman's still body and sat upon the sheets to take a look at her under the feeble light of the moon.

There was a tremor upon the lips when another sigh escaped from the throat. In a minute afterward they relaxed, disclosing a bright line of the pearly teeth. Concern now struggled in his heart with the profound affection which had hitherto reigned there alone. "Tsunade…" Kakashi whispered on low undertone whilst his deep dark eyes sought the signs of alertness on her tensed features.

Upon the delicate frame traces of the profoundest nightmare advanced and the body convulsed in unconscious torpor and the small hands clenched into fists, and the face was tainted with cadaverousness, the longer evil oppressed the soul.

"Tsuna…" Kakashi's low voice echoed in her ears when he called for her again. He laid his hands on her shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze. "Tsu-…"

Aroused by the touch and burning with the horrors of the mind, she seized, at a single effort, at the throat of the man above her and lunged at him with such force that at length he fell with his back against the futon.

She straddled him, and casted her hazel eyes glowing with red fury at the man. Her soft smile edged into a menacing growl and revealed the sharp set of teeth.

"It's just me, Tsuna." Kakashi uttered on a calm and composed voice and locked his eyes to hers. Elapsed but very few moments indeed which seemed to swell into long irksome hours when the grip around his throat loosened and he gulped in relief.

Tsunade's face softened and regained its original, faultless form, which then grew afflicted with bewilderment. "I am…I am sorry…I-…" She drawled as she hurriedly got off him and pulled him back to sit by her side.

"It could be worse, Tsuna." Kakashi offered a smile in hope to jollify the guilt-stricken spirit, although it was the latest hour of the night and his mind was no new. Thus, he could only bring visions of mischief to the fatigued brain. "I would be much more alarmed if Madara was sitting on me in a loose gown as yours."

"Oh…" Suddenly, crimson rushed to her cheeks and warmed up her whole existence with flushed sensation. "I…I didn't… Dammit." Her slim fingers reached for a soft silken sheet and she shrouded herself from Kakashi's curious gaze.

"You know, hidden things merely ignite wildly flaming visions, whilst the truth pacifies the coveting mind."

"Are you trying to tell me to undress so you will eventually stop staring, or should I keep this around my body so I can feel your intense desire of scrutiny pierce through the garments?" She tilted her head in wonder and her visage riddled with suspicion.

"Whichever pleases you, Tsunade." The samurai smirked with a delightful sigh that escaped through his parted mouth. "I am very pleased by both, if you may have been wondering." There was a wicked glint in his eyes as he lay back on the futon, that sinful sparkle flitting across his face she only once perceived, during that night amidst the empty bottles of sake and torn garments.

Blush returned to her cheeks whilst she giggled and upon feeling the warmth overwhelm her, she was quick to avert her eyes from him. His plan to ease her mind deemed fruitful as now the young woman was struggling to regain her confident demeanor instead of fighting the soul-seizing visions of her afflicted mind.

Kakashi outstretched his arm and beckoned her to join him. His smile softened at the sight of her as he ventured to speak. "There are still a few hours until sunrise. You should try and get back to sleep."

"And what happens if I attack you again?" Slowly, she turned her head at him yet her eyes dared not look at his face.

"Next time I will keep you atop me. The sight makes up for the little fright."

"Kakashi!" Tsunade's large lustrous eyes narrowed, and her indignation merely grew as she noticed herself redden again. She had but the slightest of control over such bodily reactions when he was around, which put her in torpid uneasiness; she was unsure whether it was normal or not, whether it was allowed or was shameful. "I was being serious…" She sighed whilst she chewed on her full lower lip. Her hazel eyes rested on him yet did not seek his face, for to look upon it filled her with remorse.

"Come on Tsuna. You are not the only one restless at night." He replied with candor that soothed and disquieted the innermost chambers of her heart. Kakashi brushed a golden tendril behind her ear, such a simple act that induced her to look at him.

"Kakashi…" She muttered through her compressed lips and gradually fell back with a shudder upon the sheets from which she had been so startlingly aroused.

"Yes?" The samurai wrapped his arms around her frame and guided the heiress to his side.

For a short interval she pondered what was there to speak, what thoughts should be voiced yet no sound passed through her lips. Her heart pounded in her bosom with the feverish tunes of a hundred drums yet speculations remained unuttered and locked in the cage of the mind. The sudden timidness that took possession of her prevented the woman from expressing, in words, her appreciation of what she might have construed into a compliment.

In the quiet room within the pale moonlight the two gazed longingly at one another and time became semblable to an abysmal infiniteness where seconds bore no importance; it was all but the triumph of stillness.

During the strange anomaly of his existence, feelings could never be of the heart and passions could never be of the mind. Through the gray of the early dawn, among the trellised shadows and in the silence of the moment, he watched her not as the living but as of a dream, not as the being of earth but as of the abstraction of what was divine. He listened to the fierce drumming of her heart and felt his own beating organ match the singular rhythm within.

His lips parted in a smile of peculiar meaning, which she never once received but understood without explanation. At a slow pace, the samurai drew her face nearer to his, until her soft warm breath tickled the cold skin of his chin.

Her mesmerizing eyes closed and she welcomed the warrior's long, deep kiss with an eagerness of a maiden. He tasted like captivating opiate dreams that filled her with vivid visions of lust, the longer his lips lingered on hers.

Her slim frame trailed closer to him, without the intent of doing so, like a snake coveting its prey. She sighed at the sensation, at the comforting closeness which, at the same time, fueled the burning desires within her bosom.

His mouth, the taste of his flesh, oh word of no meaning…! How, for long hours could she ponder upon it! How has she, through the whole of the cold nights, struggled to recall it! She grew possessed with a passion to discover, to fathom, to gratify the urges long suppressed.

Now, then, did her spirit fully and freely burn with more than all the fires of her own. "I want you…" She gasped past the ferocious battle of their tongues, merely to voice her heart's true desires.

"I want you too, Tsuna." Kakashi called aloud upon her name, within the silence of the night, among the sheltered recesses of the room, through the wild eagerness, the solemn passion, the consuming ardor of his longing for her.

"So touch me…"

The samurai was satisfied with the order, and carried it out at once, guiding and traveling his hands upon parts where she only dreamt to be touched by him, again. His reward were soft sighs of blooming pleasure that rose within her bosom and her slim fingers sought entry past the veil of clothes that shrouded his frame. It took but very short elapse of time when at last they lay in each other's embrace divested of garments and lips locked tightly together.

She was glorious in all her bareness, and as spell-bound he was, he coveted her with a greed belonging more to demon than to man. Kakashi laid his firm hand on her, upon the milky thigh of the graceful leg. He grew intoxicated with the scent of the young woman, with the heat of her body, with the salty taste of her skin yet in that moment he was devoid of the charms of sake; it was all but very real.

Unable to help himself any longer, his grip tightened upon her flesh and drew her loin against his own. Amidst legs entangled and chests pressed together, he sank himself into her hot, warm and tight cavern and relished in the excessive sensation of her young, resistant depths. She was the embodiment of every woman he has ever longed for, every woman he has ever dreamt to conquer.

Her body relaxed whilst he indulged himself in the act of kissing her a little longer. The loud tempest within her ribcage aggravated at the sheer sensation he offered as at last he eased himself to the hilt within her and sheathed his member inside the salivating core.

Sensation there was much and pain was but of the spice of the sinful unison. He pounded that delicate place between her legs with long, slow thrusts, and busied his finely sculpted lips upon the ivory skin of the slender neck.

Tsunade's embrace tightened around him as if coveting to draw him closer, yet closer they could not be any better. She shut her radiant eyes in pleasure, and moaned his name like the music of luscious nymphs. For sober she indeed was, the wild sensation was thus similar yet the moment was not; even the littlest of his touch, the quietest of his groan maddened the rhythm of her heart and heated her blood with furtive flames.

She called out to him in muffled whimpers and moans, which thrilled his long repressed thirst even wilder. The unbearable pressure within his aching member pulsated at the promise of release. The warrior's sanity lasted but enough to break the fervent contact of sweating bodies and he released himself from her warm, pungent place and turned her upon her young, curvaceous bosom. Before she could have uttered a syllable, the samurai reclaimed her from behind with one long exhilarating thrust.

Her small fists clenched and squeezed the velvet garments of the sheets and her soft lips compressed the loud cries of perverse thrill. His long arm sealed her body against him as he folded it around her waist and drove himself over and over deeper and deeper within her. She cursed with words alien and incomprehensible and cried and moaned with the sheerest of ecstasy.

His stout body shuddered at the act of release when the samurai filled her raw, and aching depths with the juices of euphoria. Kakashi collapsed beside her and the two lay upon the crumbled sheets still as the grave, and with passions spent.

Small drops of sweat glistened upon his forehead underneath the feeble rays of the awakening sun. The day dawned and the first noises of life came up to their ears; the servants were awakening.

"I have to go." At last, Kakashi broke the obstinate silence of the bedchamber and rose from the futon. "The servants shall rise soon…It is best if…You know, it is best if I go back to my room…" He was struck at the supreme stillness which reigned in the atmosphere. For answer there was none, he turned to look at her. She rested on her side, with her head propped up by an arm but he could not see her face.

"Are you-…?" The samurai's mind grew clouded with confusion, as he pondered on the reason of her complete disinterest. No sound succeeded his disturbed inquiry; no sound was emitted in the sullen darkness.

Could it be, by chance, that he has done something he was not supposed to? Did she regret the sudden change of the night? She certainly seemed to enjoy it. Perhaps his sudden leaving was that upset her to quiet resignation. "It is…" Kakashi was sitting in afflicted uneasiness that overspread and plagued the innermost chambers of his heart, and gnawed and mangled at the strings of guilt until he was sweating with anxiety. "I think you misunderstand Tsuna…"

He could not bear her indifference any longer, and thus he moved to her side and with a slow and careful motion turned her on her back to face him. Kakashi's eyes widened at the unexpected sight, for he found the heiress in a pleasantly deep slumber. Upon her lips feeble beams of smile plastered and faint snoring enlightened the air.

Kakashi lowered his face to plant a kiss upon the forehead with a soft chuckle playing about his mouth. Afterwards, he rose from the sheets and picked up the few discarded clothing. He started on the task of putting them all back on whilst he listened to the sounds outside. Most sojourners shall still be unconscious at this time of the day, perhaps it was but a few servants gathering for the early tasks; that information pleased and eased his mind and at length he parted from the chamber with a last glance at his lover.

Shortly after sunrise, Kakashi found himself at the dining table of richly enameled and massive silver, upon which were a few goblets fantastically stained, together with a miscellaneous desert of dishes. The breakfast served was a wild luxuriance of vegetables and fruits prepared with great exquisiteness leaving no stomach empty.

All around the table sat the samurai in accordance to their title. Lord Mifune seated himself at the head, elevated a little above all his companions. His face was generally pale but no feature, expecting one alone, was sufficiently marked on his visage, it was but the excessively pleased glint in the eyes as he canvassed the variety of dishes.

"Long night, my friend?" Asuma murmured on undertone as he nudged his comrade in the ribs and reached for the small bowl of rice.

"I couldn't sleep. I was thinking." Kakashi replied as he fought to cover the sudden timidity of his heart by the surliness within his voice.

"About what?" Asuma leaned even closer, paying less and less attention to the degree of his voice. "Tell me at least you were thinking about things man do?"

"You mean war?" The silver-crowned warrior cocked a brow in false curiosity, and picked a few raisins from his plate.

"The other thing." He frowned in disbelief.

"Silence, boys." Lord Hiruzen interposed the conversation by smacking his son in the head.

"Sumimasen, tousan.[i]" Asuma murmured, rubbing the back of his head.

Kakashi merely leaned back in his chair with his eyes shut, and amused himself with munching raisins and filliping the stems into a goblet.

But not long were they left in quiet, when another voice broke the composed air, with the cheerful enunciation of words. Shuya smiled with childish candidness as he put down his chopsticks and bowed politely in his seat and said, "Sousofu-sama, why is Tsunade-ryuu not eating with us?"

Lord Mifune cleared his throat and wiped his lips clean with a cloth. "Shuya-kun, people do not share table with their dogs." Said he, in a low, distinct, and never-to-be-forgotten whisper, which thrilled to the very marrow of the bones.

So profound came the stillness in the room that one might have heard a pin drop upon the floor.

Kakashi was utterly astounded; and, for a moment, was quite at a loss what to do. In the meantime, the elder continued his talk.

"Gentlemen, I make no apology for this behavior, because in thus behaving, I am but fulfilling a duty. You are, beyond doubt, uninformed of the true character of the "person", or if you are informed, you may very well agree with me."

Could Kakashi, should Kakashi describe his sensations? …Must he confess that he felt all the rage of the damned? Most assuredly he had little time given for reflection. Many familiar hands roughly seized him upon the spot, and forced the samurai into inability. He appeared to be stifling with passion, and his face was boiling red.

For a short time he remained silent, apparently striving to master his emotions. Having at length seemingly succeeded, he reached for a napkin which rested near him, saying as he held it firmly clenched. "Thank you for the meal." After forcing those words through his lips the samurai vacated his chair.

"Where do you think you are going?" Lord Mifune lifted his gaze upon the fuming samurai with the coldness of winter reflecting upon his visage.

Grabbed by the wrist, Kakashi was compelled to stop at the side of the table and answer to the lord's demand.

"I must attend some business. Please excuse me." The silver-crowned warrior was not only surprised but exceedingly vexed and incensed at the absurd behavior of the elder, but surprised he was even more at the control of his heart.

Before he was released from the fatherly grip, Lord Mifune pulled him to his face and whispered to his ear, believing that certain remarks were better left between two people. "You are quite aware of our history. Please do not make me explain myself to these people. And do not fret, boy. The servants will feed the pet." Upon the utterance of those words, he patted the young man in the back as if speaking the words most pleasing to the heart.

In the first excitement of the moment, Kakashi's mind grew blurred with the satisfying visions of sending the elder to the lands of the dead. Upon second thought, however, he was forbidden to show the slightest of emotion concerning the subject, for the lord was right, and for the very fact that his own child was present.

"Thank you." Was all he spoke and with the same impulse, Kakashi left the scene.

Asuma, upon the whole too felt sadly vexed and puzzled, but, at length, he quietly concluded to make a virtue of necessity, to dig with a good will, and thus the sooner to convince the oldest samurai of the fallacy of the opinions he entertained. "Old man Mifune, if I may speak…!" He rose from the table as he began, yet in that very moment of ejaculation of words, an old scroll appeared in his front pocket.

"Yes, Asuma?" Hereupon in utter impassiveness, the lord of the table helped himself to the sake upon the table, and pouring out a bumper he lifted it to his lips.

In unity, the whole group of samurai turned their gaze at the youngest Sarutobi who became nervous at the clumsy situation. Before he resumed, he made sure that the content was what he expected it to be. His hand slipped within the pocket and lifted the ancient paper upwards into his sight. Upon its confirmation, he traveled his eyes back at the company. "I…uhm…I must leave as well." A general pause ensued, and he cleared his throat nervously as he resumed. "It is work, you know…"

"Ah…work… Of course…You may leave now." Mifune smiled and gave his assent in a simple gesture. He placed the goblet coldly on the table, and looked at him in a half pompous stare. "Please, put back that dumpling on the table. I know it is not for you."

This done, and the samurai having been departed nervously, the company turned in profound silence towards the table and finished the breakfast in peace.

 ** _Not long afterwards…_**

"You seem troubled, Hisa." Kushina sat beside her friend after the crowd had subdued in the spacious dining room.

"Didn't you see? Asuma wanted to… Why would he help that girl? Why is everyone so protective of her?"

Kushina could not fall to observe a sudden increase in the nervous irritation of her temperament, and in her excitability by trivial causes of jealousy.

She resumed, and now more fiery. "I cannot fathom, I cannot possibly fathom the root of his actions. First Kurenai, now this damned dragon. And the way he left the table… He has to work? What work? If he is but a simple samurai he had nothing to do. I am afraid that we were right…"

"About what he is?"

Hisana partly arose from the chair, and spoke, in an earnest low whisper. "I…It is absurd…I have never met _them_. What if we are wrong? I am so confused…If only I felt nothing for him. If only…" But in the chafing of her troubled mind at these unaccountable vicissitudes, there did not fail to be mingled some degree of that nervous anxiety with the fury of that boisterous night none of them dared recall.

"If he is away…We could search his room for evidence…If our theories are proven true, you can move on."

When Kushina said these things Hisana remonstrated, for she knew her well enough to be concerned about the consequences rather than amused of her plan; but she was a fanatic, and found joy in mystery and in mischief driven by curiosity.

Gradually, the longer the Hatake speculated upon the subject, she became infected with the uneasiness which seemed stalking in all corner.

Kushina talked on, however, at great length, about the necessity of certain explorations without which the pacification of the soul could not be wholly successful.

"Search his room?" Hisana furrowed her eyebrows at the thought of it. "It is wrong…It would be wrong of me to do such."

"He doesn't speak to you. What else there is to do? I could guard the door." Kushina furthered with excitement glowing in her wild eyes. "If he is what we think he is…Then you can make him confess. Come on Hisa. Come on, let's do it while the others are out training."

Hisana hesitated for an unmeasured interval of time, yet she soon subordinated all her fears to the growing curiosity and fascination. Her hand reached for the goblet in front of her, within which fresh sake rested and swallowed the drink unhesitatingly. "All right. I guess we could do that." Added she and wiped her lips dry.

Asuma's bedroom was a large southwest chamber, which overlooked the frosty front garden on one side, while its west windows, before one of which he had his desk, faced off from the brow of the white hill and commanded a splendid view of the lower town's outspread roofs and of the mystical pale sunsets that flamed behind them.

Carefully locking the door on the inside, at length the two commenced a vigorous search in the dark chamber. It was possible, they thought, that concealed in some obscure corner, or lurking in some closet or drawer, might be found anything to please their elevated inquiry. For them, it could be an ancient, ragged scroll, or it could even be anything with a tangible form.

As for Hisana's part, she strongly held herself to the theory that invisible things were the only realities, and this, all would allow, was a case in point. Long and earnestly did the two continue the minute investigation, but the contemptible reward of their industry and perseverance proved to be only a volume of swinish books, a demolished bottle of sake and an old pen.

Their exertions, as it was previously mentioned, proved fruitless. Closet after closet, drawer after drawer and corner after corner were scrutinized to no purpose. At one time, however, Kushina thought herself sure of her prize, having, in rummaging the samurai's bed, accidentally been found pieces of a torn garment.

"This makes no sense…" Remarked the redhead warrior as she was hurriedly throwing the clothes back into the drawers.

"It does. We have but the slightest of idea for what we are looking." Hisana sighed as she at last, given up on the investigation, sat at the edge of Asuma's futon. "I cannot believe we did this."

Kushina fell beside her friend with the same remorseful sensation burning within her soul. "Indubitably the man is sly as a fox."

"And we are acting as some dumb royal wench." Hisana narrowed her eyes as sudden waves of chagrin afflicted the chambers of her bosom. "I should have let it go. Kurenai has returned with the group anyway."

"I didn't see her at the table today. And she is not here either." Kushina furthered as she patted her chin ponderingly.

"There are many things we do not know. I do not know what has happened between them. But most certainly I had no right to break into his room." Shortly afterwards her remark, the cadaverousness of her face diminished and wrinkles of a different nature lined her young visage.

The thought of mystery put her at once into a pitiable state of agitation. "In all honesty, I do not know what he has turned out to be, and as I look at my brother I feel the same. I have been away from them for too long…The only thing I do know is however, that both are making a huge mistake."

"What do you mean?" Kushina turned her gaze towards her friend as she wondered.

"The dragon. Just thinking about her I feel so…enraged." She spoke with her hands clenched in fists. "They both like her. They are upset when she is mistreated. That damn, treacherous beast. Spirits ruined our family once; I will not let it happen again. Just who the hell does she think she is?"

On the other side of the locked door, Tsunade could sense the Hatake's enflamed spirit shared by her friend as they prolonged their discussion in disdain towards the subject. Eavesdropping was not her habit into which she frequently committed herself, yet she could not stop herself from listening to the irksome melody that emanated past the locked entrance.

Just what Hisana now wished of her she could only guess, but that the samurai had some stupendous secret or discovery to impart with the other in the room, Tsunade could not doubt. She had been thus occupied for some minutes, listening to the loathsome conversation.

"What is your business with that two, if I may ask?" Suddenly, from behind, a voice came up to her ears and the heiress turned in slow motion.

Lord Mifune was a nonchalant man at first impression. He was not at all nervous and she would believe that in fact he never had any nerves. He was never seduced into a flurry. He was never put out unless put out of doors. He was cool, cool as the touch of the grave and he was calm, calm as a corpse.

"I…I have no business with them, Mifune-dono. I was looking for Asuma…I mean Asuma-sama." She corrected herself quickly and bowed in front of the elder.

Tsunade struggled to reason off the nervousness which suddenly had dominion over her. She endeavored to believe that much, if not all of what she felt, was due to the bewildering influence of the gloomy character of the man in front of her. But all her efforts deemed fruitless. An irrepressible tremor gradually pervaded her petite frame the longer the elder observed her quietly and, at length, there sat upon her very heart an incubus of alarm. "Mi-Mifune-dono… please pardon me for the question but I must ask… What is the reason of your dislike towards me?" She repeated the bow upon finishing the utterance of the question.

"We all have different reasons." He began without the slightest of elevation perceived in his voice. "However, I believe I can make you understand a part of it. Follow me." Mifune responded with a grave countenance, and motioned her to obey his orders.

Abased, humbled to the dust as she then was, she nodded in the positive and accompanied the lord of the Palace.

He led the way into his own study, which was on the eastern part of the Palace, and next to the library. Upon entering, he closed the door and beckoned her to sit. She thought she had never seen a nicer little room than the one in which she now found herself. It was about ten feet long, and had one bed of carved oak, which appeared wide and convenient.

In that portion of the closet there was a space containing a table, a chair, and a set of hanging shelves full of books, chiefly books of folktales and travels. There were many other little comforts in the room, at which the young woman curiously gazed.

"Here." He began, shaking the girl out of the trance. He handed her a volume and asked her to look over some portion of it.

Tsunade did so, but to little purpose, not being able to gather the least particle of meaning. However, after a tiresome harangue in his ordinary style, he took down from his book shelves a number of musty volumes on the subject of mythology, and after drawing his old chair to its customary station by the window, he entertained her for a long time with the books' contents. Indubitably, there were some subjects upon which he took pleasure in being minute.

He requested her attention particularly, and with an air of mysterious sagacity, Lord Mifune read aloud, and commenting earnestly as he kept on reading.

No one else shared the room yet she could hear the creaking of signs in the wind outside. She thought the room and the books and the stories very morbid and disquieting but because she longed to learn the truth of hidden tales, Tsunade tried to listen, and soon became tremblingly absorbed by something the elder said in that accursed book he was holding; a thought and a legend too upsetting for sanity or for consciousness. She shivered when she fancied she heard the closing of one of the windows, as if it had been stealthily opened.

After that, she lost the feeling of nervousness, and was listening intently and shudderingly whilst the old man kept on reading aloud. It was certainly an agitating waiting, and the blasphemous book in his hands made it doubly so.

A consciousness of the entire and terrible truth flashed over her soul as the minutes prolonged and a voiceless gasp parted her lips.

She was far from home, and the spell of the past was upon her. In the pale sunlight she fancied she heard it pounding on the rocks, and she knew it lay just over the hill where the twisting trees writhed against the clear sky.

 _"_ _Having, thus, made a country from what had formerly been no more than a mere floating mass, the two Deities, Izanagi and Izanami, watched over the world in peace._

 _It was not a long interval, when Izanami's greed sprung within her bosom, and concluded that her brother's affection resided not with her but with the mortals he created. With bitter wrath, her eyes fell upon the world where peace reigned and reigned alone. She praised and fed the youkai she made, in order to decrease the number of man, yet all was in vain when they were taught to fight against the beasts._

 _In a fit of uncontrollable jealousy, she stood sobbing at the head of her shrine. Her hot tears fell like hailstones, and lo! more demons were born. But soon, corpses shrouded the rich greenness of the lands and rivers swelled up with decaying meat. From these bodies and floating souls within the air was born the god of Death, she named Shine-kami._

 _Izanami, upon beholding the creation of her envy and hatred, fell in love with the god in an instant. The Deity, to express her awe towards the God, built an altar for Shine-kami and adorned it with the bones of the dead. As Izanagi's shrine looked down on the world, she decided to have the temple emerge from the darkest depths of the earth, and thus named it Yomi, or Hell._

 _Shine-kami returned the morbid affection of the Deity, and their first-born proved to be Orochi-maru, the eight-headed and eight-tailed serpent-dragon._

 _Not long afterwards their unison, the two parted to the Nether lands, leaving the task of creation to Izanagi alone._

 _After the parting of his sister, Izanagi was now quite alone in the world. Unable any longer to bear his grief, he resolved to go down to the Nether Regions in order to seek for Izanami and bring her back, at all costs, to the world. He started on his long and dubious journey._

 _Many millions of miles separated the earth from the Lower Regions and there were countless steep and dangerous places to be negotiated, but Izanagi's indomitable determination to recover his sister enabled him finally to overcome all these difficulties. At length he succeeded in arriving at his destination. Far ahead of him, he espied a large castle. "That, no doubt," he mused in delight, "may be where she resides."_

 _Summoning up all his courage, he approached the main entrance of the castle. Here he saw a number of gigantic demons, some red some black, guarding the gates with watchful eyes. He retraced his steps in alarm, and stole round to a gate at the rear of the castle. He found, to his great joy, that it was apparently left unwatched. He crept warily through the gate and peered into the interior of the castle, when he immediately caught sight of his sister standing at the gate at an inner court. The delighted Deity loudly called her name._

 _"Why! There is someone calling me," sighed Izanami, and raising her beautiful head, she looked around her. What was her amazement but to see her brother standing by the gate and gazing at her intently! He had, in fact, been in her thoughts no less constantly than she in his. With a heart leaping with joy and jealousy, she approached him. He grasped her hands tenderly and murmured in deep and earnest tones: "My dear sister, I have come to take thee back to the world. Come back, I pray thee, and let us complete our work of creation."_

 _"_ _I cannot do that, brother." Replied she on a tone suddenly cold of all loving emotion. "Thou hast come too late. I had chosen the path shared with Shine-kami, and wish to rule here in the Underworld."_

 _"_ _But why, my dear sister? Come back, I wish thee with all my heart."_

 _"_ _How much I appreciate thy devotion!" Praised Izanami. "But remember thy love shared with those of mortals. I shan't bear such blasphemy! Thou shall love me only and I shall do the same." Forgetting the vow they had once made to each other upon the creation of the world, a ghastly change came over her._

 _She, who had been so dazzlingly beautiful was now become naught but a living corpse in an advanced stage of decomposition. Upon her forehead a third eye opened whilst the other two slowly rotted away, the eye of violet glow called the Rinnegan. "I shall watch over thou, brother. And once thou forget me, I will make you remember through my wrath I cast upon humanity." Cursed she in a low, queer voice._

 _Having the quest thus been concluded futile, Izanagi returned to his shrine and wept for thirty days. From his tears the first drops of rain were born and the two gods of weather arose. He named them Fuujin and Raijin, and later created the deities of Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi whom he called the Four Heavenly Kings._

 _The Four Heavenly Kings, each of whom watched over one cardinal direction_ _of the world. On the 8th, 14th and 15th days of each lunar month, the Kings sent out their messengers to see how virtue and morality were faring in the world of men. Izanagi also brought four guardians to life who watched over the King's temples and kept his sister's bloodthirsty children away._

 ** _Raijin,_** _the chief of the four kings and the protector of the north possessed the five-clawed dragon named_ _ **Hiryuu.**_ _ **Fuujin**_ _, who aided the growth of goods, guarded the south part of the world with_ _ **Suiryuu**_ _, the four-clawed dragon. The king of the east was named_ _ **Amaterasu**_ _and watched over the world during the day. He was addressed as the king who upheld the realm and possessed the dragon of three claws named_ _ **Kiryuu**_ _._ _ **Tsukuyomi**_ _saw though the moon's pale eye and protected the western lands of the world with_ _ **Touryuu**_ _, the two-clawed dragon._

 _Izanagi's joy in seeing the world fall into peace and balance could not last longer than a few long decades, when, Izanami rose from the Lower Regions of the earth with an army of children who consisted both of oni and youkai. The malformed beasts lunged at men and crawled and mangled at the human meat._

 _Other children of Izanami rose from the Yomi who reaped the souls and put them in eternal nothingness and thus restored the balance upon the world. To Izanagi's gravest despair, the Four Heavenly Kings were conquered by the serpent-dragon Orochi-maru and were locked up within four heavenly cages, unable to guard men from below. Their powers were shared among the bravest of men who stopped the youkai and aided in the restoration of peace."_

Here, Lord Mifune paused for a second and turning to a passage specified, he read it with great care to himself.

 _"_ _The dragons decided to keep their promises to their kings after the first war on earth, except Raijin's; Hiryuu, becoming possessed by blind rage of injustice, scorched the lands of the south until the soil grew dry and life dispersed in smoke. Izanagi sought to heal the wounds of earth and sent eternal winter on the suffering lands. Izanami returned to Yomi to his beloved in content and left her most precious son to guide those mortals who began worshipping her, called the_ _ **dark lords**_ _._

 _For another few hundred years, silence fell over the lands and stillness reigned there alone, until the War of Creation with its bare feet has stepped at the door."_

So she listened to that hideous chapter, and shuddered doubly because it was indeed not new to her. She had seen it before, let dreams tell what they might; and how vividly she had seen it was best forgotten.

The rays of the newly risen sun poured in upon the whole, through windows and as the heiress glanced out, the white lands of cold came into her view.

"They believe that there is only one host for a spirit, one that can contain its power without being consumed by it. The fact that you are able to control the five-clawed dragon does not leave much doubt about you being one of them." The elder rose from his chair and restored the volumes to the shelves. Then, he turned to the heiress and gave voice to his final thoughts about the matter.

"And that is why, I will not protect you. I will not share my respect nor will I trust you. By nature, you and the spirit are powerful, impulsive and reckless. I am aware of the things you have done for this family, especially for Shuya-kun. But that is _not_ enough. I suggest you live up to the name you have been given or our ways will part on the battlefield."

There was a slight alteration upon his rigid expression, a faint glimpse of passion that for a brief moment of time overwhelmed and enflamed his ancient spirit. Tsunade know well that he was a highly influential character and with powers yet unknown and unimpaired, even to her. She swallowed her pride and bowed deeply in front of the old man.

"I spoke too much. I must prepare for my daily businesses to attend. Please leave and stay in your room. Your presence around merely excites unneeded attention." Mifune added and lifted his slim, osseous finger towards the door.

"Thank you, Mifune-dono." As etiquette would necessitate the gratitude even in the most ungrateful times, Tsunade uttered those words in a forced composure and at length vanished from the study.

She felt suddenly smitten with a passion for screaming, yelling and simply acting as a spoiled brat after being unjustly scolded.

Embittered, she strolled on the staircase and headed back to her room through the long and narrow hall with her heart ablaze and mind fuming with pure anger. Who did he think he was, that old man of a joke? How dare he order her to anything? He shall be the one seeking her respect and not the other way around! Clouded by the avalanche of soul-stricken thoughts, she was only halted by someone else's body upon bumping into him by accident.

"Ah, Lady Tsunade! I am sorry, I was just…" Dan looked around as he wished to quickly investigate the circumstances. "I was just standing here alone…Completely still…"

"It is my fault, it is mine…I wasn't paying attention." She drew a deep sigh and wiped the thick tears of indignation from the eyes.

"Is everything all right, Lady Tsunade?" He wondered upon a minute scrutiny of her sullen features.

"No, Dan-sama…I…I don't know what these people think! All of them are so pompous, they judge without bothering to care! Talking about respect and titles! They are nothing compared to me and my family!"

"Lady Tsunade…" Dan uttered on an anxiety filled tone, and reached his hand out to her but she was quick to push it away.

"I am not finished!" She fumed as she resumed. "These people think they are the owners of the world, they are no better than Madara! They should be called Uchiha!"

"Lady Tsunade….I sugge-…"

"I said I am not finished!" Tsunade folded her arms. "Holding a grudge over the past, _who does that_? If they want to hold a grudge I will give that old geezer a reason, just watch me!"

Dan this time said nothing but merely took a step backwards. As ill-luck would have it, Tsunade did not detect a third's presence in the heat of the moment and thus vented her rage to a small company she would have wished never to include. Upon its horrifying realization, a sudden air of cold chilled her and shiver rushed down her spine. Slowly, and in the blackest convulsion of nervous despair, she turned on her heels to find the familiar figure standing patiently behind her.

"Ka-…Kakashi…" sweat glistened on her forehead as she forced those syllables past her throat. She was also certain she would faint, if not right then and now, then never.

"Tsunade-sama." Kakashi offered a polite bow and lifted his gaze at the man beside her. "Dan-sama, do you have time for the…thing?"

"The thing?" Dan cocked an eyebrow as he was slow to catch up with the secretive talk.

"The stuff…with the thing…" Kakashi narrowed his eyes as if to mesmerize some sense into his comrade.

"The stuff…with the thing…The stuff…Ah!" Dan's eyes widened in recognition and a usual smile spread over his face. "Of course! Yes! Let's do it now! I love the stuff! With the thing!"

"Enough." Keeping his sight strictly averted from the heiress, the slant-eyed warrior grabbed the other by the arm and raced to escape from the scene.

In torpid uneasiness Tsunade watched the two rifle away from her, as if rushing from the embrace of Plague. With lips compressed and her heart clenched into a tight knot. She stood there still for an unknown interval of time, the vivid recollections of her impetuous words ringing in her ears.

Amidst many things in that day, what she hated most was the fact that the elder's curses were true, that she was in any event an impulsive, reckless brat and not at all enough of a chiseled character to gain anyone's respect. "Dammit."

* * *

[i] "Sorry, dad"


	15. The Unhappy Prince

**_"_** ** _It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this?"-The Killers_**

* * *

As the days elapsed, the sun's glory waned, and its light faded away, Kakashi gradually became possessed by a vague uneasiness. His spirit was burdened by weight of nervous anxiety such as a culpable feels when vicious sounds fall continuously within his ear, when low, solemn tones of alarm ring at intervals, and commingle with suppressed melancholic dreams.

Thus, the fourth night has arrived and with its shadows came upon the silver haired samurai a sense of heavy discomfort. It oppressed his limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was tangible in the air he breathed, and palpable as fabric around his frame.

Although, in the chamber within which he sat, now there was music, laughter, and sake on every hand, Kakashi's eyes were bent fixedly before him, and throughout his whole countenance, there reigned a stony rigidity. The man looked chagrined.

The Palace, quiet for half a century was once more enraptured in fancy visions; it was the day of the first snow. The rice wine flowed freely in the rapidly emptying goblets and joy resounded in every corner as if wishing to diminish the root of sorrow. The Lord of the kingdom was surrounded by feasting company and hurrying servants. There were eaten many strange delicacies at that feast and of alcohol there were an untold number. No traces of fear or of gloom could be detected in the spirit, save for two.

Guy, who was by nature of a doughty heart, and who was now mightily without such on account of the powerfulness of the sake which he had abundantly drunken, waited no longer to hold his tongue and proceeded with the curiosity bulging in his bosom. "Kakashi! Come on Kakashi, no time for gloom! Makes you old, my eternal rival!" He patted the man in the back as he spoke, and sat beside the samurai in one extremity of the main hall. "Is it still the wench, troubling you?"

Kakashi did not reply, for words seemed too troublesome to utter. Lost in thoughts as he was, he simply sighed and lifted his gaze a few inches upwards, regarding dully the merry throng. At end of the spacious hall were seated seven or eight people with harps, flutes, violins and a crimson piano. These musicians, -or whatever they truly were on an ordinary day-, annoyed him very much at intervals, during the feast, by an infinite variety of noises, which were intended for music and which appeared to afford much entertainment to all present, with the exception of himself.

"You can talk to me." Guy continued with a generous gulp from his goblet. Madly satisfied, he released a sigh sounding as 'ahhh' and wiped his mouth clean with his arm. "Sulking for three days, where is the sense in that? You are a divorced man, your only option is to busy yourself with whores. Nobody will shun you that way. Besides, those are obedient for sure and bring no trouble in the household."

"It's not about Tsuna." He replied, at last, his voice chilly as the winter's gale.

As the minutes wore along, gaiety grew vaguely yet swiftly and the throng mingled at the tables and on the dance floor, swaying awkwardly to the mild tones of harps.

"If not women then what?" At this point, the black haired drunk grew even more curious.

"Asuma has not come back for three days. Naturally, of his business he spoke but very little, however…"

"However?" Guy's eyes widened as he awaited at the answer.

"However, he told me, that in case he does not return-…"

"If he doesn't return then?"

"Will you let me finish the sentence, for once?" Kakashi rolled his eyes and with that very same effort he snatched the half empty goblet from his comrade's hand, to those wildest bewilderment at the samurai's actions.

Of course, of resistance there was none and Guy thus remained peacefully sat beside the other. "Go on…" He whispered, drowsy.

Kakashi resumed. "Someone like him does not take long in completing business. He told me there were 148 names. Both Uchiha and our men. Even with the journey back to the village, three days is already longer than usual. However, this is the fourth night. Something has happened to him. Something from which even he cannot escape; and that idea is the most worrying." His habitual expression was one of kindly and well-bred calm, whereas now a variety of emotions seemed struggling within him.

"Why?" Guy frowned upon noticing his comrade's anxiety.

"Nobody knows how to catch a _Shinigami._ Nobody knows how to scar them, not to mention to kill one. Except…"

"Except?"

 _"_ _Priests."_

Guy gasped at the word resounding in his ear. His large black eyes gleamed, rather than shone; for the effect of wine on his excitable brain was not more powerful than instantaneous. He placed his palm upon his forehead as if to measure the cold of his skin, and looked round upon the company. "But we have lost the only priest when things…when things went south."

Stupefied and aghast, in that moment of speculation he had himself no power to move from the sedentary position he had assumed upon first wishing to engage in conversation with the other, and must have presented the eyes of an agitated person, spectral and ominous appearance, as with pale countenance and rigid limbs, his mind floated in funereal thoughts.

"Exactly." The silver haired samurai nodded and resumed. "The priest I knew has left on a journey to learn and stay hidden from evil. He was the last, and the descendant of the Kusanagi, thus the only one with enough prowess to trap a Shinigami."

"Do you think… By chance… What if he…Changed sides?" At the termination of this sentence he started, and for a moment, paused, for it appeared to him that, from some very remote portion of the crowd, there came, indistinctly, to his ears, what might have been, in its exact similarity of character, the echo of the wild, shrill cries of doom.

"You must be quiet. It would be unfortunate for us if anyone heard this…" He replied in a tone of unsuitable levity. "It is merely but a hunch, but if it is right…Tsuna has to know. She has to know first so she can prepare for it." Oppressed, as Kakashi certainly was, by a thousand conflicting sensations, in which angst and extreme worry were predominant, yet he could still retain sufficient presence of mind to avoid exciting, by any observation, the sensitive nervousness of his companions.

"How do you prepare for betrayal?" Guy pondered with all the sense that had remained in him. "I am not saying it is easy on everyone, but her family got murdered and she lost her title, her home, she is poor as a rat and she is a woman above all! Our master is worth less than the pants I am wearing, and once she is queen, she will be the subject of ridicule. Against all effort, she is still young, immature and spoiled. I have never seen a better comedy than what has been happening to our master. Even that title was forced on her." Upon the long remark, Guy laughed although feebly and somewhat vacantly and with his eyes besprinkled in wine; he observed the other, very tranquilly.

Guy was harsh, nonetheless he spoke truth. To all this Kakashi felt sorry, but could not presently reply. The samurai riveted his eyes from the swinish tumult and rose from the ground with one motion. The joy behind the false smiles nauseated his already sickened soul, so he sought egress from the suffocating atmosphere. As obedient the other was, Guy followed his comrade to finish the conversation.

Nobody noticed the leaving of the two as they hastened from the main hall and made their ways uninterruptedly through the narrow corridors until the cold touch of the falling snow relieved their tensed limbs. The large moon, evil and monstrous, leered down from the black vault, winking hideously like an insane watching eye when clouds softly passed by. To their sight within the darkness lay trees of various kind; bonsai and oaks and maples of dignity and behind the trees, a silver lake ran along and reached to the feet of lofty mountains that separated the world from this of eternal winter.

The two stood there in the cold, writhing in guilty agony, frantic to save the village whose peril every moment grew, and vainly striving to shake off this unnatural fear of doom when they recalled the absence of their comrade.

"Kakashi," here his tone of voice dropped to the very spirit of cordiality and Guy took a brief moment before he resumed. "Don't you think it would be best if you let the King's Army fight the battle they must, and we stay out of it? Konoha is not your home…You have Shuya here. We samurai should stay out of it."

"Do you know when the water for tea is at perfect temperature?"

Kakashi's answer was certainly not what he anticipated, so he asked, "wa-what?"

"Or that with a drop of the juice of lemon, the flavor of green tea comes out even better?"

"Uhm…"

"And that if you put two slices of cucumber on your eyelids, the following day your eyes will feel better?"

"No, I guess not…" Guy patted his chin in evident wonder and confusion that overspread his face. "How is this relevant to the subject?"

"I did not know such before either. In fact, there are hundreds of things to which I never once paid attention. It was easier to exclude myself from the world and simply do but little. This world is messed up, Guy. We made it that way, as we are just as messed up. I know for a fact that I am…However, running away will not save us. If we perish, we shall perish during war. The Senju have built a place that had more freedom than any other villages. They made rules, which worked and in every action they strived to lift people from poverty and inequality. Here, in this land, if a man leaves a woman, the only option for that woman to remain virtuous is to kill herself. In the Land of Water, if you wed a talkative wife, you have the right to cut her tongue out. If they cannot bear a child, you have the right to sell them."

Here Kakashi interposed and averted his eyes from the blackness. "Women do not have rights in this world. Not even in Konoha, but at least they were treated a little bit better. That is why Rin could leave, and if she is happy now, I am forever grateful."

Whilst Guy listened thoughtfully, the fumes of the wine lately taken had gradually evaporated, leaving him doubly timid and guilt-stricken by the samurai's words. Both the coolness of the night air and the raw honesty of his comrade had their effect of a yielding mental energy and he nodded repetitively the more he listened.

"My point is, Guy, people should be equal. We should treat each other as human and not property. We should protect those weaker instead of using them to our selfish needs. We need a nation whose people work and live peacefully together, with children going to schools, men and women owning little stores and whatnot and elders teaching the future generations. I only see that happen in Konoha. Our master is a woman, but she still has the right to be treated as a leader and therefore we must obey. We must protect her and the dream in which she believes and embrace that dream as if it was our own. And die, even, if Fate requires us."

"People's mentality does not change overnight. Time will be against us, for we are not immortal."

"I want to believe that this is a reason worth fighting for. I want to believe that Konoha is a place worth to cherish. Madara enslaved women and children, while the men are forced to fight against us. There is no future in a vision that dark and unjust. We could do so much back home, Guy. We could help people. We could have a bigger academy, we could teach those possessing high amount of chakra. You could be a sensei, even!"

Guy began to fancy the more he was told. Indeed, there was reality in these dreams to cradle. Also, the longer he observed his comrade the more apparent it became that never once he had seen him so fueled with passion. Kakashi was an unnaturally calm and cold character, so, hearing excitement ring in the deep voice merely enflamed the shorthaired samurai. To fight for a place they call their own, to live comfortably around others, it was truly something of a reverie.

"Hm…We could have a training ground!" Guy's eyes lit up as the promise of a kinder tomorrow bloomed its petals in the meadow of his spirit. "Asuma could be a sensei as well, people like the tricks he does with the blades. And we should ask Ichiraku-sama to open a ramen shop! He cooks like a god!" Here again Guy paused abruptly, and now with a feeling of wild amazement for there could be no doubt whatever, that faith was restored even to the darkest chambers of the heart.

"I know, Tsuna said the same." Kakashi assented as he smiled to himself. "She envisioned hospitals being built and a better library. Moreover, she argued about the issue of keeping the constitution of kingship. She said we could go with something that is closer to people and might be a dream for anyone, later."

"Such as?" Guy cocked his irresistibly large eyebrow.

"She named it 'Hokage'. A title given to those who wish to live for their nation, protect its people, love and cherish it and put it above all. In that case, I believe both Hashirama-sama and Tobirama-sama should be listed as ones."

"You should be one of them, then. Just listen to all your dreamy words; I have never been more inspired in my life." Guy laughed warmheartedly and patted his comrade in the back before he posed a question unexpectedly audacious. "So between us, my rival, and for the sole reason to respect the blessings of youth, this sudden vigor and liveliness are because you are in love with the blonde Senju girl?"

No sooner had these syllables passed his lips, than Kakashi growing exceedingly red. "Aissh…What are you saying now?" He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head nervously. Most certainly he did not expect such a question to be posed, especially not during such dark times as it was. ' _Definitely nonsense'_ , he thought and so he replied accordingly to the theory. "I never said I loved her. I…I never even said I liked her!"

Upon Guy's face a chuckle of sober wickedness plastered. "You did not have to utter a word, my friend. It is written all over you."

"Wha-what…Psssht…Nah…Uh…" Kakashi stood aghast at the burning thoughts, which possessed him, at the terrible temptations, which beset him upon the voiced accusations of his comrade. There came to his mind, amidst the grey smoke of irksome prophecies the vision of the maiden to whose beauty his whole criminous heart yielded at once, at whose feet he bowed down without a struggle, in the most ardent worship of love. The silver crowned warrior blinked a couple of times and slapped his cheeks before he spoke; "Just because I speak respectfully…It doesn't mean a thing. I praise Kurenai even more."

"If that is so, why is your face red as the monkey's butt? I am telling you my rival that is blush. You are blushing! I have never seen you blush! Ara[1], I don't even remember great Kakashi so affected by a woman's charms! " Guy furthered in high tone of the spirit.

"You are just like Asuma, always averting from the subject... How can I surround myself with people like you two?" Kakashi rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time of the night, albeit the conversation amused him beyond doubt. Indeed never once he thought about feelings, least his own, while slowly he indulged himself in the idea of believing his comrade's words, especially of those that mused about blissful affection.

Could it be, perhaps, that he was in love? Against all odds, in this very moment of this dismal, brooding time, he was in love? The answer was yet to be awaited, when the two was abruptly interrupted by a third's company.

"Kakashi-sama!" Minato panted with an extremely worried expression on his face. Before he could have uttered any more syllables, there was a loud noise of breaking glass, after which a scream followed. "Yo-your sister…And Tsunade-sama…They got into a fight."

"A what?" Kakashi's eyes widened and a shiver chilled his spine. For a moment the samurai half doubted that Minato's presence was real at all, and wholly doubted that something like that truly occurred. There was simply no sense in that.

"Kushina and I… We tried to stop them but Mifune-dono forbade us. However, it is out of hand, the best if we stop it." There was something in the tone of this note, which gave Kakashi great uneasiness.

Again he shivered, for he did not like the things that the night had brought, and wished bitterly that nothing would have required his summons but the approaching of a tranquil dawn. As he could not depict the reason, he inquired after more information while they betook inside the Palace. "Why did Ojiisan forbid it?"

"He made a bet on Hisana-san." Minato replied as calmly as it was possible, although with visible concern.

Something like fear chilled him as he walked with the others and rushed over him again when they entered the main corridor, and two or more rough voices in angry contention were distinguished and seemed to proceed from the upper part of the place, where the feast was being held. Louder and louder the tunes of shattering objects and overturning furniture grew in the air, the closer they arrived and so more upset the samurai became.

He shall not attempt to describe his feelings of rage, for to believe he was angrier than anything else, even without knowing the very root of this chaos.

"What is the meaning of all this?!" Kakashi inquired as he stepped into the scene.

Around the two women the tumult had long gathered, keeping a safe yet close distance; safe not to get hurt, yet close to be proper witnesses of the wild quarrel. No consciousness was clear enough to pacify the sides, nor there was interest in ceasing the chaos, since it fueled perverse excitement within those mad with sake.

"Monster!" Hisana began in a tone of the deepest indignation as she sealed her hands together. "Chidori!"

"Chidori, my foot." Kakashi grumbled with the bitterest anxiety, which he endured during this fearful drama. With a counter attack, he extinguished Hisana's lightning and thus gaining the observation of the bewildered. "What is going on?"

"How can you side with her?" Hisana screamed in sheer wrath as she riveted her eyes at her brother.

While he listened in an extremity of astonishment which there should be no attempt to describe, the tumult shouted in frenzied exasperation words of various kind and nonetheless enraging, to cheer for the pursuance of the catastrophic drama. "Could you first explain what's going on?" Kakashi inquired restlessly, struggling in vain to make some sense of the growing disorder.

"She should know her place, for Yomi's sake!" His sister replied with another lighting sphere in her hand.

"You are the one to talk, stupid Hatake!" Tsunade screamed from the other part of the room, while she was ready to deflect the upcoming attack.

The heat rapidly increased in the atmosphere and as before, it was in vain that he, at first, endeavored to appreciate or understand what was taking place. "Enough! Both of you! You are acting like children!" Kakashi shouted as the indignation grew palpable. "Shuya has more common sense than you two." But not long was he left in doubt when a scene of the most chaotic confusion ensued.

"She started it!" Hisana growled, unable to soothe her maddened spirit and threw the Chidori in the blonde's direction. "She speaks like a pompous bastard when she has done nothing! She has proven nothing! She is a nuisance to everyone!"

Upon avoiding the blue electric orb, she shouted her answer; "Well, at least my father wanted me. I can't say the same about you!" It was all Tsunade could spit at the intoxicated enemy, before her face was kissed by the cold tough ground.

"Hold your tongue before I rip it." said her host in great calmness. Whereupon the whole company maintained a dead silence for nearly a minute. The people froze aghast with admiration, and lifted up their eyes to the heavens in reverence. Lord Mifune, upon grave ennui at last interposed.

The poor girl got up the best she could and, not daring even to sigh she hung down her head, and said not a syllable in reply.

Gradually, and driven by fear of the old lord, the crowd had departed. The tumult had ceased. The Palace was in comparative repose. Lord Mifune, Tsunade, Hisana and Kakashi were those only remaining in the spacious hall of splendor, where the two men exchanged unspoken truth simply by looking at each other. At last, the younger samurai spoke. "You provoked them, did you not?"

He listened with marked interest, and in fact seemed not a little amused. "Your accusation is atrocious, son. Do not be such a fool." Mifune replied on the mildest tone he could use.

"Why is she here? You made it clear that the heiress is excluded from any activities in this palace. Why on earth she was taking part in it then?"

The Lord, at this, at first lingered his eyes at the woman in torn garments, thenceafter glanced downward to the voluminous grey robe upon his frame, and then taking hold of the end of one of his sleeves, held it up close to his eyes for some minutes. Letting it fall, at last, his mouth extended itself very gradually from ear to ear; "I believed I should be generous and make an exception. Look where it led us, Kakashi. After all, she is not well-mannered."

At that point, Hisana wished to give voice to her concordance, to speak her hurt and anger. For these she longed with a frenzied desire. All other matters and all different interests became absorbed in their single contemplation. However, she became seized by a sudden wave of uneasiness; she spoke not, and stood quietly beside her brother.

Finding that he was not to be moved by anything Kakashi could say in a mild tone, he now assumed a different demeanor, and told him that; "You were surprisingly supportive when I left to get her here. Ever since she has arrived, you treat this person as a dog." Kakashi furthered with the deepest desire to solve the mystery. "The only bad mannered here is you and I wish to comprehend it."

"Did you just hear how she spoke? There is nothing to comprehend, except the fact that she is ungrateful, and disloyal."

At this unpardonable piece of ill-speaking, Tsunade blushed in shame and hung down her head. Never was triumph more consummate; never was defeat borne with so ill of a grace. Indeed, Kakashi could not endure the spectacle of the poor woman's mortification and so he took a step closer to her, but was halted by the heiress's motion of hand. This time Tsunade found voice to speak. "I am sorry, Hisana-san. I went too far." Said she on every variation of sad tone.

At sight of this the joy of the lord could scarcely be restrained, while the countenance of

his grandchildren wore an air of extreme disappointment. Hisana was now at a loss what to do, for both remorse and anger gathered and reigned like tempest in her soul. It became rapidly evident that the senseless dispute between the two was but of minutely planned trickery and fooled she was indeed, albeit the rude act was not wholly without root. "Ojiisan…"

Lord Mifune appeared exhausted with triumph, and spoke very few words. "I do not owe any of you explanation. You should all be grateful." Upon replying, he vanished from the scene.

The tone of these words filled the blonde with an indescribable feeling of dread and disgust, to which she could not give reason, but grew sickened at the mere sound of them. With trembling fingers, she urged herself to fix the crimson satin dress on her frame and bowed in front of the Hatake siblings before she politely made haste towards her chamber.

Hereupon the two recovered their spirits and so Kakashi began, "Have you lost your mind?" He said, taking a second to calm his voice and shot his black orbs at the girl beside him.

"I saw her sitting beside that green plant. She looked ridiculously lonely so I went there. I was rude, most probably."

"Most probably?" He asked, slowly folding his arms over his chest.

"I am drunk, brother." Hisana frowned as she nudged him in the ribs and sighed. She attempted to recollect the memories of the incident, not simply for him to comprehend but for herself as well to see through the truth. "We were simply picking on each other. It started like that."

"Why would you do that? Why can't you two just be in peace?"

There came a brief moment of silence during which the falling of a feature could have easily been noticed. Upon its passing, she continued. "I envy her. She is right, she had a proper family. At least, it was much closer to one, than ours. She is beautiful and powerful. She has you. Even Asuma likes her. I was upset why she kept sulking over Ojiisan being cold to her. Worse things happen to people and we will always be mistreated by others, we cannot escape that. She was like a lost puppy, sitting there, talking to that damn plant. I wanted her to get up and stop feeling sorry. So I was rude, as usually I am."

"Tsunade has a tendency to get peppered by such."

"I noticed." Hisana nodded in the positive and resumed. "She saw me…She saw me sneak into Asuma's room the other day. I was looking for something…Anyway, she kept quiet about it until now. I felt threatened when she said she would reveal it."

"And then?" Kakashi tilted his head as he listened to her peacefully, his soul far from such notion.

The tone with which she gave the words rang with morose confusion. "Somehow we argued about Shuya too. She spends too much time with him and I heard him address her 'okaasan'. I just…I guess I wanted to make her realize she has nothing to do with us, and whatever business we have with her is simply due to strict rules. She started throwing things at me she was not supposed to know, and lied when I ordered her to reveal the source. Then…People were around…She claimed I hit her but I did not. Therefore, we found ourselves fighting and cursing. And you came."

"Hisana…" He sighed and continued. "How to put this…" Kakashi scratched the side of his temple as he pondered about the right words to use.

"I know…I will apologize. She is the master or what…"

"It…It is…It is more complicated than that, I believe…I don't know. I have not given a thought to it, yet."

"Masaka…[2]" In an instant, her eyes widened at the recognition. The effect of his unvoiced words was even more shocking than what she had anticipated.

"Hisa… That is not the point." Kakashi was swift to switch subject before he grew too red to deny the truth. "Keep an eye on Ojiisan. I let my guard down. He has some business with the Senju clan I do not know about. There are many things bothering me. I need to solve them all before they get out of hand."

"All right…" She sighed with her gaze on the ground and after a few elapsing moments, she resumed with a different concern painting her expression. "Kakashi…Have you heard anything about Asuma?"

He frowned at the melancholy meaning of her tone. "I am working on that too. Give me some time to figure things out. Trust me, okay?"

"Okay." Hisana nodded sheepishly and led her eyes from the floor. "I guess you should talk to her. Everyone is too flushed from sake. Dan-sama tried to help but he fell clumsily and left with a nosebleed. Such a pitiful sight."

"You were pitiful too. And ridiculous." Kakashi remarked, although concerned.

To that, she did not respond but bowed in politeness. It was better to take her leave before the effect of alcohol overspread her. She needed a bed and a long, long sleep. She could scarcely refrain from tears and scoffed at the piece of letter in her hand, which the blonde had childishly torn in pieces and thrown its parts away, and now it was impossible to say where. It was a short letter from the Sarutobi, the only ever written to her and now merely a far memory impossible to be read again. She was at fault too, thus she did not speak of it. Instead, she parted from her brother and headed to the bedroom.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

There was no light in the vast and evil-smelling crypt, and the small sinister lamp shone so feebly that one could grasp details only little by little. The storm was still abroad in all its wrath when Asuma recovered some degree of presence of mind. It might have been days after encountering the Uchiha, and unknown amount of hours becoming deeply absorbed in unconsciousness.

Presently, he was startled awake and jolted into sitting by something very cold which pressed with an ever gentle pressure against his ribcage. It was needless to say that the man felt inexpressibly alarmed. With one hand, he cautiously reached for the unknown, and upon a single motion he heard the rattle of chains. "Chikushou…[3]" He muttered, lightly upset and nonetheless puzzled, pulling the chains from his chest. The effort was futile. Once again, with his grip tightened and now with greater force he pulled the metal downwards. "Come on…"

There was no change in the moment, the cold iron links did not move from the ground nor did they break from the bones within which they were embedded. In short, Asuma was locked to the floor with no ways of freedom whatsoever. "Come on, come on…" He nonetheless tried over and over again, restlessly pulling, gripping, squeezing, even biting at the strange metal which did not even bend even when he used his full force. "Why isn't it working?" The confusion was great in the samurai, until the moment that he turned his head gently to one side to seek something to grab onto, and so he perceived, to his extreme horror, the symbols long feared and burnt in his memory.

"Do you like it?" Came a sound black as the night and sudden as the touch of Death. "I honestly had no idea how troublesome it is to catch your kind."

In that very moment, Asuma saw clearly the doom, which had been prepared for him and congratulated himself upon the stupidity by which he was effortlessly put into trap. All it took was a second of carelessness on the field. One brief second, a blink of an eye, a mere idea of ludicrous pride when he turned his back at the Uchiha king, and there he was, chained by the sigil of the Shinigami. If one thing was certain, it was that he was now but a mere slave. That idea frustrated him to no end.

"You should have put me to a nicer room. Why does it have to smell like dead?"

"I thought it was what you fancied." Madara replied in a grandiloquent tone. "Also, there is less to clean once our business is done."

"What makes you think I will do any business with you?" Asuma replied, although ridiculous in his own state. There was no way to escape.

The Uchiha lord chuckled at the boldness of the reaper. "Indubitably you got some nerve to dare talk to me this way."

"Yeah well, it is not like you can kill me." The samurai mused himself in agony.

"There are ways to do worse. That is the beauty of immortality. Death is not the worst pain to endure." He continued, with a triumphant smile flashing across his aristocratic features. "I want you to perform the "Rei no Shinsei[4] tonight. I need a hundred souls back." Madara spoke on the most natural tone of evil.

"And why on earth would I do anything you tell me?" Asuma inquired, with sheer disdain ringing in his deep, low voice.

"Well, for a starter you are now my puppet. Secondly, I have this wench; Kurenai or what is she called… She really wants to see you, before, you know…Before she dies." remarked the king, straightening himself as he took a step closer and lowering his eyelids on the man in front of him.

A consciousness of the entire and terrible truth flashed suddenly over the reaper's soul. His dark eyes narrowed in rage and his lips pursed in unvoiced curses. With the purest intention to attack the king, Asuma sealed his hands together but his demand was left unanswered.

Madara amused himself by observing the reaper's futile attempts in first freeing himself and then trying to kill him. "Oh yes, reminds me. The priest warned you would do that, so he summoned your blades while you were unconscious. Shall we discuss the details of our business?"

"No." The Sarutobi responded sharply. "You can kill Kurenai, but I will not help you."

Madara paused in confusion.

Hereupon Asuma arose, with a grave and stately air and lifted his gaze at the king before him. "To save a life is against the Code of the Shinigami. If your desire is to kill her, you can do so. You can kill everyone, but it will not make me help you. So you might as well let me go, and I may reap you when you were supposed to, and not before it."

The Uchiha, possessed by the touch of wrath stood rooted in the spot for a brief moment, his rage evident upon the pale, cold skin. If there was anything he despised more than someone with more power, it was someone without fear. Thereafter, with the fingers in fists, came a minute of stillness, where both observed each other in every variety of loathsomeness. They remained in that crypt of all that is unclean, uncanny, unwelcome, abnormal, and detestable; in the chamber of gruesome shade of decay, antiquity, and of desolation.

"Very well then." At length, Madara spoke. "I wanted to give you an option to obey me by your own free will. Since you do not, I will make you."

"Like you can do that, Uchiha bastard."

"Well, Shinigami…I have someone who can." He replied in so serious a tone that sent shivers down the reaper's spine.

The shock of recognizing that monstrous truth had frozen him into a mute, motionless statue. Indubitably, the king was not joking and the thought of inability repulsed Asuma dearly. Never once he found himself in a situation as this was, against all warning of his father. He considered it simply impossible, and thus he grew gradually careless. What was there to do now? Should he worry for Kurenai? Was she truly here, somewhere? How could he save her without actually saving her? A confusion of associated ideas possessed his brain and slowly, Asuma sank back onto the ground, to Madara's deepest satisfaction.

The king was victorious and Fortune once again seemed to shine bright by his side. With that thought in mind, he pulled out his katana and thrusted it into the Shinigami's skull. "Jiraiya said it is the part of the preparations. Make sure it does not heal by the night, or else I must do it again." Madara smirked while he mused himself with the sight of flowing crimson. He cleaned the weapon with the fabric of his garments and left with a pleased mind. The day was still young and duties were yet plentiful.

The waning and fantastically horned moon had risen far above the eastern plain, when Asuma was awake in a cold perspiration. He cursed at the long hours of swoon while he dragged himself towards the cold, slimy wall against which he rested his back. In this morbid night solitude, it was but the eerie singing of the owls that reached through the barred window of the shadowy crypt, sinister night sounds of animals only furtive tales tell.

"Jiraiya…Jiraiya…That stupid name." Asuma grumbled to himself. "Just get between my hands, Jira boy, damn treacherous bastard."

Before he could have furthered, there came a faint light from a candle, and quiet, measured steps scared the rats in slumber. The Shinigami lifted his gaze from the chains and riveted them into the blackness before him. Soon, the thick dark was lifted and a frame came into his sight. He was certain it was not Madara, or the snake Orochimaru.

This reverend man right in front of him, with countenance so demurely benign, with robes so glossy and so clerically flowing, with hair so vividly white, so soft and so long; could this be he who was so eagerly cursed on the lips, the man of such atrocious act of trapping a reaper? "Asuma-sama."

"Temae[5]! My arse you dare call me that way!" Asuma resumed his discourse very much in the same tone as before. "How can you be here? How dare serve the Uchiha? Are you out of your mind, you damn fool?" He here paused for a moment and grabbed at the chains of his chest. "You did this to me, don't try and lie about it."

"I wouldn't. I did it, indeed. But you have to trust me that my actions are based on good reason." Jiraiya replied and stepped closer to the man in the dark.

"What good reason is in summoning a hundred dead souls? What does Madara have on you? Is it about the blonde? She is safe with us, Kakashi promised you."

"She is really safe?" Jiraiya's bright orbs lit up with joy upon hearing about Tsunade, yet with that very second passing, he grew dismal.

"Yeah, man, I am telling you. She is fine." For some reason his answer did not seem to lighten up the chagrined face of the young priest. "Unchain me. We need to leave."

"I cannot. You do not understand, Asuma-sama."

"I just told you, the girl is fine!" The reaper repeated in a low tone, and one full of hesitation for it seemed his words had but little meaning in the eyes of the young cleric.

"For now. Tsunade…She will die. She will die very soon if I do not do something now. Everyone will perish. Kakashi-sama too."

"What? Who told you that?"

With an air of excessive frankness, he responded; "Lord Izanagi." Here Jiraiya paused but Asuma could only nod his head. "I was given a _Prophecy_."

The Shinigami heard at last a fearful truth, which no one had ever dared to breathe before; the unwhisperable secret of secrets, the fact that nothing was what it seemed, and everything was what it had to be. He was now at a loss what to do or say.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

With a long deep sigh Kakashi rushed up the stairs and headed through the low-ceiled, unlighted corridors. There was no light of any kind emanating from lamp or candle within the suite of chambers as he rushed hastily past them, yet the way was well known to the point that light he needed not.

Stopping on his heels, he knocked his knuckles against the door but to his surprise, it was left unlocked. The old door creaked as he sneaked into the chamber, his eyes seeking the sight of the woman. Tsunade's room possessed two dusty windows and was furnished in the barest and most primitive possible way. Books and papers were very few, and in the prevailing gloom even during the day, it was hard to readily discern the titles. Under the few shelves was a small drawer put, upon which the edge of the familiar necklace gleamed when the moon's light traveled across it.

"Tsuna?" He called out somewhat puzzled by the reigning stillness of the room. He had anticipated anger, screams and breaking pieces of furniture. All was still as the grave, not even quiet sobs of a pained heart could be heard. "Tsunade?" Kakashi repeated whilst he cautiously proceeded into the chamber.

As he surveyed the place, he felt an increase of agitation first excited by the quietude of the atmosphere and then in the thick blackness of the room. There came a faint glow from the small bath piece, to where Kakashi hurriedly betook. He slid the door open with a swift motion and riveted his eyes upon the woman on the ground.

"Dammit." Worried beyond endurance, he fell on his knees and pulled the unconscious into his arms, his heart erratic. "Did you get drunk?" Kakashi murmured as he gently patted her cheek. "Tsuna…." He leaned closer upon calling her name however, she did not smell of alcohol. That information both soothed and agitated his soul, for the source of vertigo remained unknown. Worry plastered over his face and flushed his limbs whilst he was gently trying to wake her.

The samurai shivered with affright as the seconds elapsed and minutes seemed like eternity. Eternity was not this long, he was certain, and not half this perturbing; about that, there could be no doubt. There was blood upon her torn robes as he observed her, and saw the evidence of the bitter struggle upon every portion of her emaciated frame. For a moment, she remained motionless in his arms then her pale lips parted to Kakashi's greatest relief.

"I'm sorry." She whispered as she at last unclosed her eyes.

"What happened to you?" Kakashi asked, the nervousness tangible in the ringing of his voice. Slowly, he rose from the ground with Tsunade in his arms before she swooned again.

"Nothing. I was tired. I don't remember." She added when she noticed being carried away from the bath. "You should let me shower. Please put me down… Someone poured sake on me. And…I am dirty…I must be a terrible sight." She said when the soft touch of the futon welcomed her benumbed senses. "Kakashi, I can manage, really…"

"You know what…I can stay here for tonight. Just to keep an eye on you. I can help." The samurai offered as he sat beside the girl, and neared his face to hers. When he said these words, he of course expected some lively comment from the girl in reply, but to his astonishment, she hesitated, trembled, became fearfully pallid, and remained silent. "Or uhm…"

"It is better if you go." At length, she meekly replied without looking up at him.

"Better…For you?"

"For the people. Your grandfather is right. I should be only thankful… So please. I will sleep now. I promise." She insisted, her voice embraced by sadness.

"Alright…" Kakashi, reluctant yet polite, at length rose from the ground and stood with his eyes aimed at one of the dingy windows. "I might leave for a while tomorrow. There is something I must do. I do not know what you would prefer, to stay or…"

"I will be fine. Do what you must. We should all do that. We should focus on the task, nothing else." Her words occasioned them the most bitter regret and filled their souls with the most depressing and melancholy forebodings. Nonetheless, it was what she must say, or so she believed.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Upon that answer the heiress leaned onto her side, turning her back at the man. She then resumed. "And please, if there is anything to discuss, we should do it during the day. I would prefer if you did not come in here anymore."

For many seconds, his sole sentiment, his sole feeling was that of confusion and anxiety, with the consciousness of agitation. At length there seemed to pass a violent and sudden shock through his soul, as if of electricity. Kakashi hesitated upon replying, for he was at loss of what to respond. Did she truly mean it? Was it her heart's desire? "Tsuna-…"

"Good night." She hastily said and pulled the covers over her head; for her, the discussion was over and if he was indeed a polite man, he left without pushing her to prolong the conversation.

"Good night."

After some long minutes, Tsunade was sitting under the feeble rays which stole in from the street through the screened windows and. Once, when the noiseless atmosphere of the place seemed about to sicken her, she rose from her bed and opened a window and looked up and down the street, feasting her tired, red eyes on unfamiliar sights and her nose on the wholesome air.

Still nothing occurred to reward her watching and she yawned repeatedly, fatigue getting the better of apprehension. Languidly she gazed from piece to piece of the dull landscape, and many large, bitter drops fell the more she failed in wishing to diminish chaotic thoughts from her exhausted mind. The cold chilled her to the marrow, and her soft skin grew goose bumped, yet her heart beat with fierce agony.

At certain point of the night, she tried to reason with herself and thus deducted, that positive pleasure was nothing but a mere idea. To be happy at any point one must have suffered at the same. Never to suffer would have been never to have been blessed. Thus, to feel like dying now, to feel ripped from the only source of joy and have hopes lost were all but good things happening to her. With those ideas in mind, she returned to the futon and dropped on the sheets like dead weight.

Sleep seized her quickly, and she was at once haunted with dreams of the most disturbing kind. Tsunade felt, in her vivid visions, a cosmic and abysmal loneliness with hostility surging from all sides upon some prison where she lay confined. She seemed bound and gagged, and taunted by the echoing yells of distant multitudes that thirsted for her blood.

Jiraiya's face came to her with less pleasant associations than in waking hours, and she could recall many futile struggles and attempts to scream. It was not a pleasant sleep, and for a second she was not sorry for the echoing shriek, which clawed through the barriers of dream and flung her to a sharp and startled awakeness in which every actual object before her eyes stood out with more than natural clearness and reality. _"Jiraiya…"_

* * *

[1] "Oh my,"

[2]"You have to be kidding me"

[3] "Oh crap"

[4] "Soul rebirth"

[5] "You!"


	16. Enterlude

_**"When did a dragon ever die from the poison of the snake?" - Nietzsche**_

* * *

The ruthless night had gradually approached. Long, moon casted shadows daunted the sullen world, like ghoulish souls that hid amidst the gnarling trees.

Grotesque, inhuman shapes fled in front of his visage on the untraveled road but he was not afraid. Not even the ice-cold air could cease the pace of his rush, nor the sharp cries of the entombed could freeze the beating of his heart.

The samurai was in a hurry.

In the deep dark forest, within the blackness of the mighty trees that now came to his perception hideously amplified, he cleared another aperture with the quick dance of his katana and with a torch in his hand, vague stones and symbols, -though nothing more definite- spread in front of him.

Hounds bayed continually in the far distance and chants of cryptic priests mingled in the air, whilst the onyx, putrid river suffocated the wanderer's lungs. The torch's light rapidly died out and once more, the samurai was left in the thick emptiness. His breathing remained slow, and controlled; there was no reason to fear, _not yet_.

Presently, under the bony arms of the bending trees, the night sounds ceased. He listened in the hideous silence, he sought for the noise of life, let it be unnatural, or loathsome. It was an unwholesome quietude, for he knew Death was nearby. His skin now welcomed the touch of the hellish cold; his heart's pace quickened, and the exotically slanted eyes dilated. With an ever so slow motion, and upon the touch of invisible hand upon his back, the samurai turned, at last.

"Why?" The malign glow within the eyes with which he was leering into his soul made curiosity stronger than fear, and so he did not hesitate upon such inquiry. A part of him was already in possession of the answer, deep in the back of the madly working brain, the words were already uttered, the sounds were already ejaculated, and the motions had long played down in front of his eyes. He knew it. He knew 'why' this was happening, why this moment was the way it was.

 _"_ _Thank you, Kakashi Hatake."_

 ** _Later…_**

Kakashi's mind was whirling with mad thoughts as he unclosed his eyes now burning with dryness. On the walls and roof that entombed him, he beheld at first some traces of the pictorial art of the ancient Uchiha race, curious curling streaks of paint that had almost faded or crumbled away; and on two extremities there he saw with rising anxiety f well-fashioned carvings of furtive tales. "Where am I?"

Upon uttering those quiet syllables, a sudden sound came up to his ears like the rattling of old, rusty chains. Amidst these thick, weedy walls, his head moved in curious horror for the source of the soul-petrifying sounds, but with black eyes, he was still calmly gazing into the nothingness, as if expecting nothing of surprise. A light wave of nausea washed over his whole frame, as his nose was assailed by the charnel bowels of the putrescent earth.

There followed another sound in the momentary stillness, the same vibration of chains and succeeded a low, hellish grunting from one corner of the crypt.

Suddenly there came another burst of that acute fear which had intermittently seized him ever since he saw the terrible ruins of Konoha under the cold moon, and despite his exhaustion and a slowly growing pain at the back of his head, he found himself starting frantically to a sitting posture and gazing in front of him. Kakashi's sensations were much like those which had made him shun the idea of depart, and were as inexplicable as they were poignant. "Is someone there?" _What a stupid question_ , he added in his mind.

 _"_ 'Kashi…"

The samurai's eyes widened upon the familiar ringing within the demoniac voice. "You have been my friend in the cosmos. You have been my only friend on this planet, the only soul to sense and seek for me within the repellent form which now I am to be."

"Asuma?" After gently touching upon the wound on his head, Kakashi moved deeper into the darkness from where the voice trailed. As he looked more closely into the black, there came to his sight at first the unusual contour of his comrade's face; he saw that in the grey cheeks shone spots of color, which had never before been present. The lips, too, seemed unusual; being widely slashed upwards, as if by the force of a stronger character than had been Asuma's. The whole face finally began to grow tense, and the head turned restlessly with slowly blinking eyes.

"Asuma?" All at once upon his calling, the head turned sharply in the samurai's direction and the eyes fell open, causing him to stare in blank amazement at what he beheld. The man who had been Asuma Sarutobi, was now gazing at him with a pair of ivory white, expanded eyes whose gloom seemed subtly to have deepened. Neither mania nor degeneracy was visible in that gaze, only lust for the worship of decay.

"We have to get out, brother." He added with his motions cautious and demure. There came a sudden gush of sickness onto the man, when the Shinigami opened his wide mouth and laughed with abhorrent delight. The chains rattled and their sound mingled with the unholy joy in the cold, damp air. "I am serious, Asuma. We have to get out. "

"How little does the earth know of life and its extent! How little, indeed, ought it to know for its own tranquility!" Asuma chuckled and shot his deadly gaze at the man in front of him, a pair of most terrifying eyes that sent shivers down the most courageous' spine. "We cannot get out, 'Kashi."

"Why the hell not?" Confusion plastered over the samurai's face and momentarily wrinkled the exquisite features of the man.

"Had you not noticed? Look at me, my man…These chains are infused with holy chakra…"

Kakashi frowned at the recognition of the sigil on one link of the metal; all his assumptions were right, as so it seemed. "I will get you out of them…" He proposed without actually knowing how such plans were to be carried out, but there was no other option; he came for his friend, he would not leave without him.

In a half stupor, the samurai rose from his spot and approached his comrade now in full possession of his courage. "I think I remember seeing Kurenai…She is in one of the cells. I will get her out too. Shinigami should not give up, hm?" Whilst he spoke, blue light formed around one of his hands.

Asuma smiled at the youth in his golden voice. "Lightning Cutter won't work 'Kashi." He replied on a milder tone. "We need to talk, before it is too late."

Indeed, the technique seemed futile, to the samurai's gravest indignation. "Shut up. It will not be too late." Kakashi replied and tried to cut another link. His efforts were proven fruitless when the divine chakra appeared more powerful than what he possessed.

"Listen to me…" He began, when an increasing draught of cold air swept through the putrid channels of the underground.

The touch of this air seemed to restore Kakashi's senses, and his worry again waned low, since a natural phenomenon tends to dispel broodings over the unknown.

"Someone is coming. Act unconscious!" The Shinigami warned, alarm rising in his fear-stricken voice.

"How?" At first and by natural naivety Kakashi assumed a reply made up of words and uttered with sounds, however, Asuma reached out and grabbed him by the hand.

With one single motion he pulled the samurai to him and patted the pale forehead with his fingertips. "There you go." Said he, while Kakashi arrived on the ground with a loud thud.

Horrible shadows appeared in the dimly lit chamber, both Asuma recognized easily. One of them seemed to be in an unusual good humor. He was excessively lively, so much so that the Shinigami frowned with uneasy suspicion upon observing the malicious features of the Serpent. Serpent he was indeed, as his ivory skin beamed in slimy glow, his sharp eyes were outlined in violet lines and a smiled with a smile wickeder than the Devil's.

"I could have sworn I heard you had company." Orochimaru began, and tilted his head upon beholding the sight of the swooned samurai. He beckoned the priest who stood obediently beside him to check upon the man. Jiraiya did as he was told and stepped to the warrior and felt of his wrist but found it cold, stiff and almost wholly pulseless. The cheeks paled and the fine lips fell open, disclosing repulsively rotten fangs of the corpse. With a shocked gasp, the priest furthered from the lifeless body and remained rooted in spot beside the Snake.

"Your business with me at present is…?" Asuma began and folded his bony arms over his chest.

At this impatience Orochimaru smiled. "The King wished to know if your transformation was complete. I believe Jiraiya that your ritual was at last successful." Upon that remark, he patted the young one in the back and resumed in speaking, his unholy gaze on the other. "Secondly, the King sends his word that the summoning of the souls shall not happen tonight."

"Why?"

"There has been a change of plans. Now that we have this little piece of…this nuisance," There, Orochimaru traveled his eyes at the unconscious, and continued, "King Madara believes that bloodshed can be avoided."

"Asuma-sama, we should be thankful." Jiraiya interposed, with a heart heavy from concern. "I dared talk to him and told him too about the Prophecy."

"That Prophecy you speak of is a load of crap, you idiot." Asuma growled in indignation. "You are naïve, Jira boy, they are playing with you." The last sentence sounded more of a warning than of a statement.

The Serpent pressed his lips together and forced his smile to dissolve. "Jiraiya, why don't you go back now and prepare for the reception of our guests?"

"Guests?" The confusion grew greater in the Shinigami's mind.

"King Madara sent out a message, claiming he will negotiate for the benefit of this land and of his people. He knows that the Prophecy is right."

"Gosh, this is insane." Albeit the words sounded impressive, he knew better than to trust Madara's highly dangerous character. Jiraiya's words the previous night did not half convince him, and thus now the news of the King's generous heart simply added to the ludicrous dreams about peace. "Jira, listen to me. They are liars." Asuma began and rose on his feet, with the rattling of chains disturbing earth's quietude. "How are you sure the Prophecy is not some forged paper to control you?"

"The Lord would never do such a thing." Answered the young priest in determination.

Upon that response, Orochimaru could not help but chuckle, and hid his face in his pale hand.

"It only makes sense that King Madara does not wish to perish in a long, bloody battle as that one written on the holy scroll. It is only normal that he wishes to negotiate…"

"Do you honestly believe that he will be fair?"

"He has no other choice, Asuma-sama."

"There is always another choice. This is too easy, man."

"You are blinded by hate, Asuma-sama." Jiraiya said, on his calm but lifeless tone. The fatigue in his voice was tangible, the worn out spirit and exhausted mind clouding him in a merciful way. "If you excuse me." The priest bowed in polite manner and turned on his heels towards the egress.

Orochimaru however, did not move an inch, but smiled, taking glee in the immortals' torment. "I never expected you to have common sense."

Asuma, before any words uttered, leaned down to his comrade and placed his fingertips upon his forehead; Kakashi regained his hold and arouse wildly alarmed upon beholding the Seprent's sight.

At that, Orochimaru simply smirked and folded his arms comfortably. "Shinigami no Mahi[1], isn't it?"

The Reaper shrugged with a half-innocent stare. "Well, what can I say? I like dirty games."

The snake scoffed and riveted his eyes at the samurai, but did not speak; it was Asuma furthering the conversation.

"So tell me, what is going on exactly?"

"What do you know, Reaper?" Orochimaru looked at him dully in the face.

"Jiraiya came down yesterday, before performing this shit on me. He told me about the Prophecy."

"Prophecy?" Kakashi lifted an eyebrow as he listened.

Asuma nodded and resumed. "Yeah. A sacred scroll that tells about a thousand years old Bloodwar. The war shall decide the fate of the world, and eventually peace will reign. Our side wins, but all of you die. In the final battle, the blonde will be the one victorious, and Madara loses his life. However, I will have to reap you, Shuya, Hisa, even Mifune-dono. Jiraiya is willing to help the Uchiha bastard if he promises not to start the war, so the blonde can live."

"He is doing this for Tsuna…" Kakashi mumbled on undertone.

"Yeah. Although something disturbs me great. Madara was more than willing to join forces with the priest. Secondly, he's requesting an army of hundred Uchiha souls, which lets me assume he is not going to quit, as Jira boy thinks. Am I right here, snake?"

Orochimaru nodded with a wicked smile of content.

"You know something…" Upon the first impulse of suspicion, Kakashi lifted his gaze at the Serpent. It was merely but a hunch, a whisper within the innermost chambers of his spirit, that he felt, that he shivered at the idea that beyond the words there was a truth worse than the darkest of horrors, that there were things, which only insanity or worse could create. "Jiraiya believes his sacrifice will save her…Madara is planning to avoid his Fate while he does not believe the Prophecy…Which can only mean that it is not the real one, but what Madara has in his possession. He has a scroll too, does he not?"

"You are almost right, Kakashi Hatake." Orochimaru replied in that particularizing manner which distinguished him. Before he continued, he lowered his tone and his expression gloomed. "King Madara has a scroll indeed. A Prophecy he believes to be the real one…But…" The Serpent here bit his lip softly, and offered a lopsided smile.

"None of them are the real ones." Came the soul-petrifying truth that froze and shook the two warriors in terror. Hereupon there came to them the crowning horror of all, the unbelievable, unthinkable, almost unmentionable conclusion. "You see, I wrote them. I have the one true wisdom, and I am the only one to know what will happen."

A well-defined shock silenced the crypt for a brief elapse of time. The tension became oppressive, and a wild train of soul-annihilating impressions and associations thronged through the almost unhinged minds.

"The reason of you alive is because of me." Orochimaru added as he languidly pondered and in great amusement while regarding the fear-stricken faces.

"You need us?" Kakashi narrowed his eyes as he gathered his senses at last.

"Well…" The Snake smirked and resumed. "I believe _you had already done your part._ "

"What does that even mean? What had I done? What are you talking about?! Hey, do not dare vanish now! Answer me, Serpent! _What had I done?!"_

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

Hisana, having slumbered long and profoundly was now lying motionless and fully prostrate in the weak light of noon, and gradually began to steal slowly back into consciousness. At first, it was the rays of light disturbing her eyes, when lively sounds began to fall continuously within her ear. Curiosity sprang her out of bed and upon vesting herself, she hurried down to the hall to see the reason of such loudness with her own two eyes.

The most spacious piece of the Palace in which dozens of men were now rushing and packing was a circular room, very lofty, and receiving the light of the sun through seven large windows that encircled the room. The whole court with every samurai was in a fever of thrill, with their leader standing at the front, trying to give order to the chaos.

"No, that is really not necessary! Put that vase down! Does everyone have katana?" Tsunade sighed and wiped her forehead in a laggard motion.

Dan was standing but a step farther, his eyes canvassing the excited crowd. "It has been a while seeing them so gleeful."

Tsunade couldn't help but smile at the man's mild words and nodded in agreement. "Indeed…I truly hope their joy will not fade."

"What is going on?" Hisana, at last arriving to the scene, showed up beside the heiress, her eyes startling in confusion.

"We are leaving." Tsunade replied as coldly as she could manage to do so. The senseless argument and pitiable condition in which they parted last night now flashed in her mind still too vividly to act any more comfortable. "Worry not, your home shall be free from the burden."

"The only burden here was you." Hisana narrowed her eyes, greatly puzzled by the woman's demeanor.

"Interesting, hearing these words from _you_." The blonde retorted.

Dan fortunately was quick to take notice of the growing tension and stepped between the two with a swift motion, arms extended in sign of mercy. "We are going to get Kakashi-sama and Asuma-sama back."

"Since you are too weak to do anything." Tsunade added, sharply.

"Wha-what are you saying now…My brother is gone?" The young Hatake's eyes widened upon the recognition. She saw him just last night, he was there, they talked...

"And you are dumb, even." The heiress rolled her eyes in slight indignation, albeit her sensitive mood played more part in the false disdain than having such feelings truly rooted in her bosom. "Kakashi left before dawn, to find Asuma. By the time we awoke, there was already a note from Konoha. He was careless and stupid and now I have to meet Madara."

"Don't dare talk about him that way!" Hisana growled, her hands in small fists, but she did not proceed with physical response; Dan was still between them and she pitied the man since his nosebleed.

"Or what? Who goes alone times like these? Is he out of his mind? We don't even know what happened to Lord Hiruzen's son, so who can be that damn of a fool to leave, without even telling anyone?" Although Tsunade raised her voice, worry was deeper than anger. She did not shout for she was upset, her soft voice roared like thunder for she was frightened to madness. "Your brother is an idiot. You are an idiot too."

"Lady Tsunade…"

"What?! Get out of my sight Dan! Both of you!" She fumed, stepping away.

Turning upon his heel, he left her presence with undignified precipitation. It was well for him that he did so. He knew that her feelings had been wounded. Even her anger had been aroused.

"If I am an idiot then you are twice that. Spoiled Senju." Hisana murmured to herself and followed the pitiable sight of a man obediently.

Dan, wishing to soothe at least one of them, took Hisana's hand in his and gave it a warmhearted squeeze. The girl blushed and grew silent in an instant, thus allowing them to stay and wait quietly in the gradually forming line.

Tsunade took a deep sigh and averted her hazel eyes from the two. She knew that there was little use in anger, and no consolation at all in complaint. _I know I am…_ Agreed she with the Hatake, although left her assent unvoiced. Time was passing. A war was at the door. Not long afterwards, Lord Hiruzen appeared beside the heiress and placed his hand upon her shoulder.

"They are alive. Well, my son is as alive as he can be."

"Thank you, Lord Hiruzen." She nodded in relief, her heart's mad rhythm soothed by the news. "And I apologize…I know it is against the rules to ask such information. I just…Kakashi…" Tsunade shot her gaze down before the dismal expression of her face betrayed her true feelings. "I…People…need him."

 _Indeed, it was. Shinigami were forbidden to aid mortals in any way possible, even to reveal if someone's end was near or not._

"There is one thing, Tsunade… For your own sake, do not remove the necklace." The old Sarutobi began with emphasis on "not". "If that is your only salvation to win; lose the fight instead. But do not, at all cost, remove it."

Upon his warning, the heiress bowed, fear once more rising in her heart.

"I have no intention of alarming you unnecessarily, but we should use all be properly cautious. Especially you, Tsunade. You have to think of others too."

"I know." She sighed, her fingers softly squeezing the pendant on her bosom. "I won't touch the necklace, I promise. I will not take it off."

"Very well then." Hiruzen nodded in content that grew upon seeing the Royal Army formed once again. "Good luck. And please, give this to my son." He bowed and handed a pack of cigarette to her.

Tsunade smiled and took the gift. "I will." She then stepped unsteadily forward, and at length the mass of samurai followed immediately at her heels.

The weather might have even been called pleasant, and during the beginning of the journey, they had a steady but very gentle breeze always from some northern point of the compass. The sky was usually clear, with now and then a slight appearance of thin vapor in the southern horizon; this, however, was invariably of brief duration.

The nearer they reached towards Konoha, a sombre, yet beautiful and nonetheless peaceful gloom pervaded all things. The majestic trees were dark in color, and mournful in form and attitude, wreathing themselves into sad, solemn, and spectral shapes that conveyed ideas of mortal sorrow and untimely death. The spear of grass wore the deep tint of the grave, and the heads of its blades hung droopingly, over and all about them timid rosemary clambered.

The shade of the oaks and chinquapins that fell heavily upon the crystal river which flowed languidly by their side, seemed to bury itself therein, impregnating the depths of the element with darkness. Each shadow separated itself sullenly from the ancient trunks that gave it birth when the sun descended lower and lower, while other shadows issued momently from the trees, taking the place of their predecessors thus entombed.

The Royal Army with the Senju now stood at the gates while the sun sank rapidly to rest. Oppressive silence fell on the warriors, upon beholding the true face of the place they had called home. The majestic darkness and the soft breeze of Death surrounded their frames and chilled them to the marrow. Fear has never been so captivating, torment has never been so splendid than in the kingdom of Madara.

"Lady Tsunade…We should proceed…" Dan whispered, tired from the hurry through the long lingering hours of the day.

Tsunade parted her lips to speak, if there was anything to utter she wished to do so but her voice was engulfed in pain. The little village had changed immensely during these weeks; the hands of the Uchiha lord twisted the world in malicious fashion.

"Lady Tsunade…"

"All right…All right. Let's go." She said with decision and slowly parted the iron gates.

Cautious and stunned were the people as they betook on the way. On both sides of the streets upon which they roamed, rose large, black wooden pillars, the upper parts of which were carven into the images of the Uchiha King.

"Egoistic bastard." Tsunade muttered, nauseated as she beheld such gigantic visions of the lord's intimidating ways of igniting fright in those weaker. "Madara! Come out, Madara, you little piece of decay! You pompous arse! I will ruin you! I will kill you!"

The Senju's army stood rooted in spot upon listening to the woman's mad fury. They did not dare move or utter a syllable, as a part of them mused in the raw choice of words. The truth was, nobody was allowed to say such a thing, no matter the true feeling towards those in higher power.

"Hold your horses, sweetheart." It did not take long until the one so blasphemously cursed appeared in front of their sight. "I expected your arrival somewhat later." Madara added on a firm tone, his expression devoid of any emotion. By his side Orochimaru showed up, with a feigned smile and perverse mischief in the eyes.

"We should not waste any second." The heiress replied with the boldness of a madman; her young, arrogant soul burnt with fierce light, such sensation she was now unable to control. She loathed the man in front of her, the reason of all the torment she had to endure, the source of all pain and suffering.

She trembled with rage; she wanted to spit in his face that her health and strength consequently, were at that moment far better than his own, to tell him that she was in a condition to have things her own way by force if she found it necessary, or that if he attempted in any manner to hurt the others with his bloody and cannibal designs, she would make sure to end his life right then and there.

Uncontrollable wrath mantled her cheeks that deepened upon catching the sight of the Serpent lean ever so close to the so called Uchiha King, and whisper blasphemous fancies into his ear.

On Madara's face a faint smile of wickedness flashed over and with a single motion he pulled his katana out of its sheath. "Before we engage ourselves in negotiation…"

"What is it?" Tsunade interposed, holding her own blade in her hand. "You called me here to fight, did you not?"

"Well…Now that I think about it, why would I wish to negotiate with someone who has a filthy mouth and is weak as a leaf?"

"I am not weak. You have no idea how wrong you are."

"This is what your father said. And then your uncle." Madara chuckled, amused upon recalling the far memories, but quite pleasant ones. "Even your mother claimed she was strong, and she was dumb as a doornail. You remind me of her, and your arrogance is of your father's. I believe you received ignorance from Hashirama. Is it not great how all Senju have been reincarnated in you?"

"Don't listen to him, Lady Tsu-…" In that moment, Dan's eyes widened in surprise. "Lady Tsunade!"

It was not long before the infuriated heiress could reason herself into sufficient courage to attack the man, to Orochimaru's greatest satisfaction. She assumed an en garde position to which she was appraised, Madara yet unhappy to see that she knew what she was doing. Beyond doubt, she has changed, different to a point that the King fancied what he saw.

There was no hesitation before she advanced in striking him with the sharp edge of her blade. Her mind ran over rapidly a thousand absurd outcomes, when the weapons at last clashed with force. They were trading feints, thrusts and parries with lightning speed, almost impossible to follow. To the watching crowd's greatest surprise, the woman had no struggle in matching the evil lord's pace.

"Is that all you can do?!" Madara scoffed upon deflecting a deadly strike, sweat glistening over his forehead. He was panting heavily as he wielded his sword, never leaving the sight of her.

Tsunade leapt forward, the katana firm in her hand. "No." With a perfect aim she attacked once again; she span around and powerfully drove the blade at the man's throat. There was no hesitation; the sharp edge rushed across the ivory skin and blood splattered all over the woman's face and clothing.

The sight of blood inflamed Madara's anger into frenzy. "How dare…" Gnashing his teeth, and flashing fire from his black eyes, he seized her by the throat, imbedded his fingers in the skin, retaining the grasp.

 _"_ _Now…Do it…Do it…Take it off…She has no choice but to take it off…"_ Orochimaru leaned his weight from one foot to another, his lips tightly compressed, his thoughts yet unspoken. He stared as if to mesmerize the girl, so focused on the scene that blood was dripping from his fists. _"Do it…Come on… I need to know."_

What she would say, or what she was thinking, or what was hearing, occupied only an instant. In less than five seconds, she summoned up sufficient strength and broke the pendant upon her bosom. The dragon's wild bright gaze took the man by surprise and so Tsunade threw him away with one motion of the large claws. Madara fell against a house and the edifice rushed down on him from the prowess so great, which shattered everything. Buried under the heavy layer of debris, sudden stillness pervaded the air, everyone's breath held back.

 _"_ _5…4…"_ Orochimaru began to count quietly, leering into the half human.

The anxiety among the samurai grew palpable, it was consuming. So far, none of them dared utter a word. They longed, oh how dearly they did so, to shout joyous cries into the air. But they feared the unnamable, the evil of all that demoniac, the Uchiha King, the idea of him still alive.

"Did we win…?" One of them whispered, and the others gulped.

 _"_ _3…2..."_

"I believe we did…"

Tsunade was hailed with the most ecstatic joy and triumph, when the excessive relief at length broke forth from the oppressed bosoms of men. Glee dissolved the lurid gloom, and laughter filled the cold damp atmosphere.

 _"_ _1…"_

The very air from seemed redolent with death. Very suddenly, and by some inconceivable impulse, a female voice from its recesses broke upon the night, in one wild, hysterical, and long continued shriek. The soldiers stood rigid with horror and watched the tragic scene unfold in front of their eyes. The katana from the heiress' hand dropped onto the ground with a shrill ringing; shortly afterwards she too fell on her knees, burst into frenzied convulsion. The limbs writhed and the heart tripled its pace while the invalid screamed in excruciating pain.

Wandering and wild glances fell at this moment upon the heiress but none of them dared approach her; nobody trusted spirits, after all.

"What is going on? Why isn't anyone helping her?" Hisana inquired in a profoundly agitated state. She rushed forth, pushing the samurai from her way. Unless the rest, she felt an unconquerable need to come to the girl's aid, as visibly, she was in a terrible agony.

"Don't…" Dan spoke, at last and grabbed the woman's wrist. "We don't know if she will attack us…"

Hisana's bewilderment merely grew and roughly, she pushed his hand away. "How can you stand here and say that? You are a coward, Dan, a damn coward!" With the bitterest rage that drew tears in her eyes, the young Hatake rushed towards the half human and sank on her knees. "Someone help me!" She called out, and within a second the blond haired Namikaze appeared by her side, the two holding the dragoness down.

Within Tsunade's eyes the flames of wrath had long died out and in their place glowed the most horrible terror. Her small hands now drawn up into fists beat against the ground while she was struggling to govern the acute seizure that overwhelmed her frame. At first, four hands descended on her shoulders and arms, keeping her somewhat steadier. The tremor ceased but little and her lips parted to cry for help but no words passed through the pale mouth.

"I don't know what to do." Hisana uttered, her voice panic-stricken. "What is going on, what is this?"

"Give me space." At last, Orochimaru appeared by her side and knelt down in dull comfort. Upon his face no particular expression could be distinguished. Slowly, he descended one palm upon the dragoness' forehead and planted the other over the stomach. The convulsion began to cease instantaneously, and by degrees the girl regained her proper human form. Tsunade was heavily panting and tears flew from her eyes like little rivers of fear and of guilt. Powerless, her fingers reached upwards to the black haired demon, the lips barely forming words.

 _"_ _Are they safe…Are they all right?"_ She was not audible to human ears, but the snake gave a light nod, comprehending her agony.

Relief washed over the two beside the Serpent, and so he could not help but smile at the triumph. With a snap of his fingers, Orochimaru summoned the broken pendant and now wholly fixed put it back around the woman's neck.

"Ho-how did you know, Serpent?" Hisana stuttered.

"The same misfortune once occurred to Ryokou." He replied with mild emotionlessness and rose onto his feet. "I believe we should gather once our leaders slept off the thrill of the encounter." At that remark, he allowed a lopsided smile.

"You think Madara is alive?"

"Oh dear…" The Serpent chuckled. "Nobody really dies as long as we have Asuma. Although I doubt the King is dead. If you would have looked at the debris…" He pointed at the wreckage of the house now overthrown.

"Damn…" She muttered pensively.

"King Madara was generous enough to let you stay in the Palace. The guards will come and guide you to your chambers… Until we meet." Orochimaru bowed and vanished in thin air.

The panorama grew desolate in an instant; the crowd of samurai shamefully dissolved upon following the Uchiha's men. On the faces of them were frowns, wrinkles of disappointment and of perturbation. Madara was not defeated, and they were chained to serve a woman of unstable character. None of them spoke but quietly disappeared into the rooms appointed for the occasion.

Minato followed the young Hatake, with the heiress resting peacefully in his arms. "Ryokou…" He murmured to himself quietly, the name ringing familiar in his ears. "Ryo-kou…" The blond wrinkled his forehead the harder he sought in the far recollections of his brain.

"Kakashi's mother." Hisana replied coldly as they walked, unable herself to comprehend the connection between now and the past. "Kakashi's mother was Ryokou."

 ** _A few hours later…_**

The sunrise did not differ from the dark hours of the night; no rays of warmth passed through the narrow windows, no light was admitted into the chambers. Konoha has been enveloped in an oppressive greyness, where clouds expelled the sun and cooled the earth's air. Forlorn winds blew outside when by degrees Tsunade recovered from her swoon.

Her slim fingers rushed upwards to her neck, where the touch of the pendant filled her with relief. She raised it to her lips and planted a soft kiss on the jewelry. Afterwards, she summoned up all her strength and sat up in the futon, with fatigued eyes canvassing the room. Over two months she had last been in the Palace, amidst the walls she called home. By slow degrees, the sickness and dizziness and longing became merged in a cloud of unnamable feelings, and she sat there, deplorable of a sight. She trembled with the violence of the conflict within her, and held the soft silken cover tight in her small fists. For long minutes she meditated on the past, until at present she was shaken back to reality by the muffled sound of the sliding doors.

"Lady Tsunade?" Dan stepped into the room, avoiding eye contact with the young woman.

"Dan-sama…" She cleared her throat and brushed a soft tendril behind her ear.

"I wanted to know…If you were all right. King Madara is expecting you, whenever you feel ready." The man remained at the door, with a sullen gaze shot at the ground. Hisana's words still rang in his ears like the solemn bells of Yomi. No doubt, remorse was a merciless friend and mangled on the purest of hearts once in their deadly grasp. Guilt spread in his ribcage, a ruthless emotion that grew and stiffened the longer he stayed around the girl.

"Just…Just give me a minute…I need a moment. It is in the Hall of Discussion, right? Just a minute…I will be there, thank you."

Dan nodded and bowed in loyalty. "O-of course…If you need me, I-…"

"You can leave." She added without hesitation and turned her face away.

Dan did as he was requested, albeit reluctant in action.

Not long afterwards, Tsunade replied to the summons of the king and found herself in the main room of the Palace. She did not trouble herself with fixing her robe nor did she care the state in which she was. Her magnificent features glowed in pallid lifelessness, the soft, luscious mouth now dry. Loose tendrils hung behind her ears and the minutely made braid was at intervals ruined.

Madara sat on the dragon throne that elevated a little above his companions who sat on the tatami floor in front of him. The chamber did not change much, the longer she gazed at her surroundings. The golden carvings now were tainted in crimson. But, in spite of the brooding atmosphere, the Hall was a gay and magnificent revel. The tastes of the king were peculiar. He had a fine eye for colors and effects. He disregarded the decora of mere fashion. His plans were bold and fiery, and his conceptions glowed with barbaric lustre. "I see no respect in you. How dare you come to me, looking this way?"

"I-…" Tsunade bowed as rules required and sank onto the floor. "I apologize."

Madara smirked contemptuously and added, "The cat took your tongue, hm? You were so eager in cursing me, I almost liked you."

"Can we proceed in the discussion? I want to end this as soon as possible."

"Yes, sweetheart." His hands were clasped pensively together over his stomach. Beside him stood Orochimaru, his most loyal companion.

The Serpent was clothed from head to foot in a richly embroidered black silk-velvet pall, wrapped negligently around his form. His mouth was puckered and dimpled into an expression of wicked affability, and his eyes, as indeed the eyes of all of those present, were riveted at the Senju heiress.

"I want my land back. I want Kakashi Hatake and Asuma Sarutobi back too. What do you want?" Tsunade began, clearing her throat. In that very moment she did not believe secrets were the right way of communication. She had no choice but to reveal her needs and thus hope her request could be met halfway.

"I need the Rinnegan and a place where my clan may rule. I want my power back. I need my army back."

"I can grant you a place…A village. Many countries are yet unhabituated. We are in good terms with the Land of Mist. It would be no problem to hand its governance to you."

"Very well then." Madara nodded, pleased by the offer. "I will take anyone who wishes to join me."

"All right…It is only fair." Tsunade nodded as she accepted his request in a sullen fashion. Dan and Hisana,-both present by her side- remained silent and quietly, yet not less agitated, observed the conversation.

"I am keeping the Sarutobi too. I want his power to awake my soldiers." Madara furthered, knowing the trade of slaves was a sensitive point in any discourse.

At that, Hisana lifted her face, her heart beating double its pace. She was not pleased at the verdict but discipline was necessary. Asuma was alive, it was truly a relief _. At least…Asuma…_

The King cleared his throat and resumed. "Also, I can trade the samurai for his brat. If he is a man, he can make more."

"They are not objects to trade." She narrowed her eyes as she replied, anger rising in her gut.

"Then there is no deal." Madara replied coldly and the pair of prodigious eyes, nevertheless,

towered at the girl in apparent torment. Delight was growing with each second that passed, for he knew anything he wished he would soon have.

"Madara…"

"King Madara, for you." He corrected, pursing his lips not to laugh. It soon became evident that the Uchiha lord found more enjoyment in the discussion than he has ever found in political matters.

"King Madara." She cleared her throat and resumed. "You are running out of power, aren't you? That is why you need the Rinnegan? And the army?"

He cocked an eyebrow in piqued curiosity. "The Rinnegan will grant me prowess. The army will grant me stability, and give back my clan."

"No… We can find something else to offer you. I won't give you the child." She shook her head, determined. "And Asuma…Asuma stays with us. I promise you a land to rule, I do. I will do my utmost to give that to you. But you must find another way."

"I said I want a land, my army and the Rinnegan." The tension was aggravated by the lord's dreadful demeanor.

Her eyes flashed with a fierce light as she presently responded. "Shuya-kun is not leaving us."

"Then Kakashi stays."

"But he is no use for you." Tsunade insisted, her pale lips compressed to urge herself into control. "Please…Please…"

"You are deplorable, Senju…Begging so shamelessly for a man." At the King's remark, Orochimaru suppressed a laugh to which Madara smirked. "I want the Rinnegan."

The Serpent, driven by a sudden thought, timidly leaned to the King's ear for the second time of the day and whispered ideas most exciting to the Uchiha's rotten mind. The waiting was gruesome, but Tsunade never faltered; she waited patiently upon the evil lord's words.

As for Hisana, however, the tension grew almost unbearable, and she was about to rose from the ground, when the heiress halted her. "Please. There has to be something else, you may need."

"Your blood. I may trade the samurai for your blood. Every third month I take as much as I want."

"She takes it. She takes the deal." Hisana interposed, trembling with anxiety. She did not look at the blonde, but bowed in politeness and rose from the ground. "Just give back my brother."

"What?" Tsunade shuddered, bewildered. "No. No, I won't agree." Even then, when the evil lord was generous, she could not bring herself to accept such cruel offer. The young Hatake's words pained her instead of fueling rage; gradually it became evident nobody supported her but regarded the spirit's power as a source of resolution to all that was damned. "This is not your decision to make, Hisana-san." She stood up, sick with a sudden flash of vertigo. "I will find another way." She uttered, taking little sighs.

"He is my brother!" She exclaimed. "How can you sit here, trying to negotiate when there is nothing you can offer? If you want us to work with you, you have to make sacrifices!"

"Hisana-san, listen…"

 _If you only knew…_

"No, you listen, Senju! What are you so proud of, huh? What have you ever done for this land? You always rely on people! If you need us then do something!" She shouted, her countenance vigorously animated.

Tsunade placed her hand over her stomach and took a long deep breath. "Please just give me a day to think about it."

She spoke with gracious air. She was running out of options; indeed there was little to offer. Perhaps Hisana was even right; she has never really done anything for anyone after all. At that moment she doubted everything, even the most selfless decisions she has ever made. If so many people thought her repulsive, might there be truth in it? It could not be only the dragon…Her personality lacked qualities as well.

Eventually, there came interruption in the girls' argument. "You can take it. I am getting hungry anyway." Madara nodded, pleased. With a clap, he broke the afflicted atmosphere and vacated his seat. "I hope you are not hungry. I have nothing to give. _Or simply I don't want to."_ Said he, with the frankest of all smiles. Utterly content, the King was the first to vacate his seat and exit the Hall. Whatever he desired to see, he did so. All that he wished to hear, he did so. The day could not have been better.

The small group of people gradually annulled, but Tsunade was stopped by the Hatake.

"You are so selfish." She growled, the same kind of pain visible in her eyes.

"I want Kakashi back as much as you do. But I am not going to just let that bastard do whatever he pleases, with me." Tsunade began, hoping she could explain herself without in fact revealing anything she considered to yet leave hidden.

"If I had to give my blood for him, I would, without hesitation. Your only reason for cowardice is that you are afraid of dying, isn't it?"

"I am not afraid to die. But I have to think of others too."

"What others, huh? Everyone wants the same, to get back my brother and Asuma. Your clan is over. You have nothing to save, but we do. We have a lot to keep safe and cherish. Kakashi has a family. But do you? You have nothing to lose."

 _"_ _I have a lot to lose."_ Tsunade interrupted. "But I would rather share that with Madara himself than owe you with any explanations. I have everything to lose. I do have a family too, you know? And I will do everything in my power to keep them safe. If I am selfish then you are indeed an idiot. Get out of my way now." Upon that impulse, the heiress pushed the other away and hastened from the Hall. Hisana could merely gasp at the surprise, and with the rage of thunder she stormed after the blonde.

"I am not done!" She screamed after her, unable to govern her feelings; she shuddered at the idea of losing both of them. She could not even say goodbye to Asuma or Kakashi, and now, when there was but one flickering light at the end of the tunnel, it was yet too feeble to find it.

"But I am!" Tsunade replied without turning to see the girl. They stormed across the endless corridors, nerves unstrung and hopes long lost; all that was left was but anger in which they now relished. In seconds, she found herself literally running from the other who seemed eager to follow.

Amidst the cherry trees and old bonsai they hurried, until all of a sudden there came up the sight of Rin, in the corner of her eyes. Tsunade halted for a brief moment, leering at the devious woman at the king's balcony. She parted her lips to call her name, to curse that damn wench, and thoughts of murderous kind clouded her mind, when a child's swift hands brought her back to reality.

The child, in stature short and thin, fled with all his might from the scene, beautifully carved gems hanging from his small grip.

Tsunade's eyes widened upon realizing her necklace was taken, and thus frenzied she hurried after the thief. "Hey, stop! Stop! Someone stop him!" She screamed, panic striking in her bosom as she persisted in the pursuit of the young stranger. The boy must be stopped, before another horrible accident occurred. She could not even estimate the time before she fell and lost control, that merely gave rise to even more afflicted thoughts.

The raven crowned Uchiha was quickly trapped when he was grabbed at the sleeve by Minato. "I caught him, Lady Tsunade." He spoke with a mild smile, holding the child in the air.

At length she arrived, panting, her expression tinted in worry than of wrath. "Please, give that back to me. I will give you something in exchange."

The child shook his head.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Sasuke." He replied, timid.

"Sasuke-kun." Tsunade nodded and beckoned Minato to release him. He was put on his feet and the girl knelt down to be on the same level. "Listen, that is something very precious to me. Do you have things you cherish more than anything, Sasuke-kun?"

He nodded, squeezing the necklace.

"Why did you take it from me? Would you sell it? Is that so?" She tilted her head as she wondered, concerned for the child; he must have been starving, as the thin jaw line and the heavily hanging garments all betrayed the loss of weight.

Once again, he replied in the declarative with the simple bow of his head.

"You see, this…This bracelet is worth more. Take it, all right? Buy whatever you like with it. Okay? You can take it. I am giving it to you." Tsunade smiled with all candidness in her voice, and handed him her mother's jewelry.

"Thank you…" Sasuke frowned before he reached out for the bright diamonds, and returned the stolen relic. With a rapid bow, the child then ran away.

Tsunade sighed, feeling her strength eventually fading; the day has been long and the few hours of sleep were apparently far from enough. At least, most of her bruises had long healed, and there was only but nausea and discomfort remaining. Unsteadily she rose back on her feet with a little relief of having the object returned.

"I can accompany you to your chamber." Minato offered, concern flashing across his flawless visage. She was merely the shadow of the woman he saw her become during these past weeks. Something had happened, or perhaps it was a result of diligent cruelty enveloping her since leaving Konoha. Indubitably, he felt sorry for her.

"It is not necessary." Tsunade replied and feigned a smile.

"I insist." He said whilst he eyed her. Evidently, as the shades of the first evening came on, the girl grew wearied unto death and he doubted she would make it any further than a few feet, alone.

"All right…" Uncertain, she resumed her solemn walk, now with the Namikaze by her side. Absorbed in contemplation, the two did not exchange words on the way.

The paving stones of the spacious garden -once made in splendor-, now lay at random, displaced from their beds by the rankly growing grass. Horrible filth festered in the gutters around the Palace. The whole atmosphere teemed with desolation, except the King's guards and the samurai. Yet, it was still the neatest part of the village, as if once looked down at Konoha saw that everything wore the worst impression of the most deplorable poverty, and of the most desperate crime.

"Thank you…I think this is where I am…" Tsunade stopped at one door that looked familiar from the morning. In fact, she was a little confused as everything was familiar to her. She was too exhausted to care, however.

"If you need anything, we are here with Kushina."

"Thank you. That is very kind of you, Minato-sama." She nodded.

"People will eventually realize we are fortunate with a master as you. It takes time, that is all. You did a great job today, Lady Tsunade." The blond warrior said with the warmest of smiles and upon the polite customs of parting, he vanished in the growing darkness.

Tsunade entered the chamber and shut the doors tight. For a brief moment, she rested her forehead on the entrance, with eyes closed to exclude herself from the world.

"What do you want?" Came a voice from the middle of the room.

"Ah…Darn." The heiress sighed, almost laughing at her bad luck. "Hisana-san."

"Why are you here? I was about to sleep."

"This is your room…" Tsunade stated, turning on her heels to behold the sight of the other. Indeed she spoke the truth, the girl on the futon, covered in the warm silken blanket in the candle's dim light. "I will leave." She uttered, her voice shaking.

A strange sense of compassion washed over Hisana, and with a deep frown she spoke. "You can stay. This futon is large enough. Just be quiet. It is not like I can talk to you normally."

Meekly, the heiress approached and sank on the edge of the mattress. She reached for a pillow and put it underneath her head.

For several moments, they listened in the desolate, pitch black room under the eaves with the rain beating down, the creaking of some swaying shutter in a remote part of the chamber and certain distant noises muffled by the thickening fog outside. At length, Hisana broke the silence when curiosity got the best of her. "So you lived here, huh?"

"I did…" Tsunade whispered, her eyes open and locked at the vast blackness. "This room belonged to Jiraiya." She said on undertone, barely breaking the quiet of the night.

"Hm…" Hisana nodded to herself. At all events, the place was beautiful, and the taste of the Senju did not leave a frown on one's face. "Asuma called you Jira girl. Why?" She inquired. The minutes languidly elapsed and none of them seemed to be able and sleep. Perhaps if she heard some stories from the heiress, so bored she would become that eventually slumber would approach.

It is with extreme reluctance that Tsunade dwelled on the past, as it grew thorns long and too merciless to touch. "I…" She sighed with emotion mixed with glee and torpor. "Not long before my uncle's death...I wished to see the village myself. I had never left these walls, I only got as far as the gates. I wanted to know what awaited me once I married Madara…I was on the roofs, clumsy and ridiculous, probably. I was about to fall…I felt my hands slipping, and I closed my eyes. Someone grabbed me. Someone saved me…It was Kakashi. He was hesitant…I noticed from the glow of his eyes and the drop of blood on his face that he killed someone. I was scared but I did not show so. I told him I was but some servant called Jiraiya."

"He believed that?" Hisana scoffed in disbelief, as she expected her brother to have more sense than that.

"I don't know if he believed it because of his good heart or simply because it was what he wanted to hear. I didn't…I didn't know him."

Well, that definitely made sense, Hisana thought to herself. Kakashi has been troubled for years now because of Rin, she simply did not know how much he was truly suffering; afflicted to such point he would spend time with a liar. "I doubt you know much of him even now. What he shows to people is not who he is."

Tsunade nodded, and responded quietly. "You are right. There is little that I know…Trivial things."

"Such as?" Hisana turned her face in her direction, although the darkness was complete.

"He sleeps on the left side of the bed, if he sleeps at all, of course…He loves the sunrise and wakes up to watch it or does not even rest. Shuya-kun is the same. I know that he fancies novels, such I would blush to read, but in his hands they look mesmerizing. He is smarter than most people I know, including me. I know that he dislikes sweet things but he always puts two pinches of sugar in his tea. And lemon…And…His eyes light up if you talk about children. He dwells on that subject for hours, and ponders how the world can be better by helping them." Here, her voice broke, and she wiped her face. "He is the most afflicted soul I have ever encountered, but the strongest as well. Kakashi is cold as ice, but his heart is warmer than the sun's light. He is quiet but his actions spoke thousands of words.

"Tsunade…" Hisana bit upon her lip when she felt her own tears wet her eyes.

"I am too noisy…" The heiress turned on her side and sniffed. She felt embarrassed and ashamed to the marrow. She was not supposed to talk that way, she should have not revealed her heart's content. "Stop bothering me." The girl rushed in adding the remark, biting upon her lip.

"Yes, I agree. You are too noisy. Just shut up already." Hisana growled although her intentions harmless. Never once she heard Rin speak about him that way. Who was this spoiled Senju, and how honest her feelings could be? At some degree, the torpor in her voice rang familiar, as if she was hearing herself talk about Asuma. It was not the same, it could not be. There was simply no way she could be friends with this arrogant woman.

"You shut up." Tsunade mumbled, no trace of anger in her voice.

"Good night…Burden." Hisana whispered and she too turned away.

* * *

[1] Reaper's Paralysis

 _ **PS: Thank you E3 for the quote. :)**_


	17. Naked Secrets

_**"Sin ought to be something exquisite, my dear boy."-Émile Zola**_

* * *

The moon used to be black as the fingertips of Death, and paranoia would dance in the night; there has been terror in the sky since the reign of the Mad Uchiha King. However, there came a spectral change in the air, as if the laws of unholy immortality were bowing to greater laws.

The hour was now long past midnight, when the first faithful rays of dawn resurged over the vast canvas of darkness. Amidst the incumbent mist, emerged a shape in its majestic cadaverousness. He stood on the royal balcony with gaze riveted into the nothingness. Above his head passed fantastic shadows of bats in flight and to his ears came up hellish baying of hounds. His senses were immune to the cold that surrounded him while his long, coal-black hair twirled in the grey winds of perturbation.

At first, he sighed. Instantly, the breeze carried away that piece of his soul. His slim, ivory fingers tightened the crimson robe around his slim frame whilst the icy temperature gradually chilled him to the marrow. It was when he realized he was still alive; a self-contemplating shadow… _A wicked whisper._

Unhappy was he, as the memories of childhood brought only melancholy and sadness. Wretched was the serpent, as he looked back upon lone hours in twilight groves of grotesque, gigantic, and vine-encumbered trees which silently waved twisted branches far aloft.

Orochimaru sighed again, and the breeze carried away another piece of his soul like a part of a limitless puzzle. Such a lot the gods gave to him, to the dazed, the disappointed, the immortal, the broken. With every breath of torpor he gave sign to his humanity, that sentience was not alien to him; something nobody knew. Languidly, as if time he had all on this earth, the Serpent riveted his deep slanted eyes at the sky.

Slowly, the sun slid upon the repellent horizon which impressed the snake very much as he has been impressed, like an innocent boy by the concluding scene of some marvellously arranged theatrical spectacle.

Not even the monstrosity of colours was wanting, for the sunlight came out through the abysm, tinted all wild orange and purple and by degrees sneaked through the dull curtain of vapour that still hung overhead, as if loth to take its total departure from a scene so enchantingly dismal.

For unknown minutes, Orochimaru remained gazing at the parade of colours and shapes, and remembered how those silent-footed years had eventually rushed in front of his eyes until solitude has become his only friend. In that very moment of contemplation, he became strangely content, as he clung desperately to those sere memories of younger years, when his mind momentarily threatened to slide into the past.

Quietly, he sighed for the third time, and took a step forward to the carved fence. Within every inch of his existence he longed to reach further, to walk into the air and join the sun ray's wild dance upon the limitless vault. Every pore on his silken, ivory skin itched to neglect the world upon which he walked, and every sigh from the innermost chambers of his soul was but unvoiced cries to be freed from this dark, putrid earth.

"Madre…No aguanto mássss…Madre…"

 ** _A few moments later…_**

The red glow of dawn was visible at the window, while winds and animals howled dismally in the near vicinity of the Palace. Darkness ceased its power over the limitless sky, but within the womb of evil unspeakable chaos yet remained.

Hisana slowly lifted her gaze and recovered her consciousness. She revived her thoughts about yesterday whilst her eyes examined her surroundings. The other side of the futon has been made with grave precision, which reminded her of the other sojourner of the chamber. She must have dropped asleep too fast, for recollections were hazy about the last moments in alertness. Most certainly she had some desultory conversation with that pompous Senju, but of its content she had little of idea.

At last, she sprang into a sitting position. There was utter silence in this vast and lurid room with red hangings and maddening rows of antique books. The longer Hisana listened to the quiet, there grew within her bosom an overmastering, uncanny anguish that eventually expelled her from the protective warmth of the sheets.

Why wasn't she awakened? Was something already happening? Could she be the only survivor and the rest of the people already sent to Yomi by Madara? Where was Kakashi? Where was Asuma? In that instant of curiosity was born the madly unreasonable desire which then took possession of her brain.

She hurriedly began to vest herself, with fears which centred in soul-upheaving visions. Her impulse to find the Senju has rapidly become an inexplicable command and thus she hurried towards the large sliding doors. Her fingers slipped upon their surface and her muscles tensed to pull the oaken entrance apart when the blonde heiress stepped in.

"Are you blind, Hisana?!" Tsunade exclaimed in surprise, finding the other bumped into her.

Hisana lifted her face out of the heiress' bosom and furthered from the royal with a quick glance of disgust. "Are you a ghost, Senju? Have you ever heard of walking as a human being instead of "floating" like some spectre?"

"Hunger makes you say dumb things, Hatake." The blonde rolled her eyes and fixed her robe in the soft glow of the early morning. "The sun has come out. They say it hasn't happened since the beginning of Madara's rulership."

Hisana nodded softly, her eyes resting on the woman in front of her. With a suspicious air she straightened her back at last, and said, "We are getting Asuma back too, right?"

"There is not more to offer than what I had yesterday. Madara is in the same position. He has to believe that for him there is more to lose than for us. That way, good things may happen to us." After a short pause, Tsunade added on a mild tone; "Minato-sama informed me about breakfast. You should go and eat while you can."

"And you? Or you don't like sharing a table with the poor?" Hisana inquired. Her speech was always susceptible to the influences of the heart.

"I would appreciate if you did not talk to me, unless you have something actually smart to say." Retorted the heiress.

"I wonder what made you be so reserved, these past few days." The Hatake narrowed her eyes in bold scepticism. "I cannot decide whether your intentions are pure, or pure evil."

Indubitably, Tsunade was somewhat different. There remained that wrathful fire in her eyes whenever Madara was near, however, she did not respond so fiercely to the younger woman's insults. Hisana could not be fooled, and if the blonde was but an excellent actress, she would very well find that out.

"Isn't that what all of you want from me?"

"Personally, I wish to have you as far as possible, from my family." As for her part, she has always been prejudicial towards the other. Hitherto she has nursed grave resentment towards the Senju clan and only with twisted sentience could she ever look at one.

Presently, there came to her mind those feeble recollections about last night, during which she could in fact converse with the blonde, those moments wholly deprived from deep-rooted disdain.

It was too late to bring those back up to the mind and to the heart, as words have already been spoken, and once more the two stood facing each other, their bodies trembling in muffled rage.

Tsunade took a deep breath and tightened the strings of her nerves. "First, I have to save your brother. I also have to find a way to join you with your platonic lover, and only after may I rebuild this village, which, -for your information-, is very important and cherished by both of them. And after I have helped your family return to their usual lifestyle, the one they are used to, shall I leave you all alone. But of course, I can just obey your selfish, arrogant and stupid command and wish you all the luck on this cursed world to do this by yourself." Upon finishing the speech, she bowed and turned on her heels.

Before Hisana could have replied anything, the heiress has long abandoned the chamber, leaving the other consumed in anger. "How dare she talk to me that way?" She fumed amidst wild and reckless thoughts and rushed after her. "Hey! Stop! I said stop!" Hisana screamed and the narrow hallway echoed with her deep voice.

Tsunade picked up the pace like a child playing tag. She felt decidedly irked with the current events, with the people around her, with the colour of the sky and the warmth in the temperature; in short, the mere idea of waking up vexed her immensely. She wished to waste no time on this girl and her nonsense, especially not before Madara's spoiled arguments.

"I said stop! Are you deaf now?" Hisana screamed as she chased after the blonde. Curiously enough, she ran with more glee than of madness, whilst the sun casted queer reflections through the cracks before her. Then suddenly, Hisana stopped and in that very moment of motionlessness, she grew faint in horror. Their frisk amidst the wooden walls and sunlight was but an action of brief duration, when the heiress dropped on the floor like a sack of potato. The scene in front of the hunter's eyes could not be more ridiculously unexpected that at first she thought it was but of an act.

"What a terrible theatre!" Softly trembling she hid the anxiety that was fast overspreading within her ribcage. Hisana hesitated whether to run to her aid or remain there, as still it could be very well but a scene to call attention. Seconds have passed and no answer has come from the other. "Dammit." She said and betook again, but all was too late; Minato and Shikaku showed up at the end of the hall.

Hisana grew suddenly fear-stricken and without hesitation she hid behind two sliding doors on her left. She paid no attention about the kind of chamber within which she intruded, but to her fortune it seemed completely abandoned. Both her ears and attention were riveted at the outside events; she was eavesdropping.

Faintly, but indubitably so, she could make out a few words between the samurai, and it is with extreme reluctance that she admitted herself the relief she felt when the spoiled woman's voice could be heard as well.

Carefully, she slid the doors open and peeped outside. Tsunade was facing the two men whose features were lined with worry. Shikaku's eyes narrowed in chagrin while Minato shook his head in some sort of discontent. If only she was closer, she could hear them perfectly. The tone and tenor of their utterances were of such mysterious secrecy that by degrees, some wild nervousness spread over Hisana. The young one closed her eyes to better focus on the sounds, when she heard more footsteps in the very near distance.

Rapidly, she slid back the doors and through a crack on the wall could she notice Dan's face as he rushed to join the three. Something was definitely happening, and it was beyond important. The discussion of furtive things was in a manner so bizarre that her skin became flawed with goose bumps, yet she could barely catch some sounds. Her deep eyes dilated when the name of her brother resounded in the air, and a feverish argument began among the four. Kakashi. Kakashi. What could have possibly happened this time? He hasn't even been around for days!

Then, she heard them again. Someone said "bother"! Or could it be…"father"? Hisana has now become greatly confused and decided to shed light upon the questions spiralling in her mind. Loudly, to make sure noticed she would be, she pushed the sliding doors open and appeared in the hall.

As expected, every eye travelled upon her, but merely for a brief moment, before the group resumed to their original conversation. With eyebrows furrowed she joined the four and bowed in polite manner.

"May I ask what is go-…"

"We should go." Tsunade interrupted the Hatake. Albeit her generally faultless visage was still colourless, her voice presented no emotion save for utter coldness. "I don't like waiting."

"Yes of course, Lady Tsunade." Dan nodded in assent as he would always do so, and flashed a mild smile at her, at which Hisana simply frowned.

"Can you tell me what wa-…" Certainly she was curious, yet none of them seemed to wish to share anything. Her efforts proved futile when the group scattered and all agreed to gather in the Hall of Discussion within a few moments.

Rolling her eyes, she followed the instructions and slouched behind the heiress with a visible distance kept between the two. Hisana did not wish to insult her any further, for her patience and passion for teasing has at length worn out.

The sunlight slipped over the green leaves. The wind shook some blossoms from the trees, and the heavy lilac-blooms, with their clustering stars, moved to and fro in the languid air. In the grass, white daisies were tremulous.

A grasshopper began to chirrup under a balcony, and like many colourful threads, various, long and thin dragonflies floated past on their brown gauze wings. Hisana felt as if she could hear the spoiled Senju's heart beating, and wondered what was coming but none of them broke the silence.

The world began to fill up with life, or at least it gave impression of the most hopeful kind. The atmosphere in the Hall of Discussion however, was wholly different.

"Just give me a minute, Hisana." Tsunade said as she stopped near the large doors. The heiress beckoned the other with long, nervous fingers to hurry inside; lest she should learn anything not quite her business.

The young Hatake nodded and slowly gathered her senses to motion. As she eyed her, a disquieting sensation overspread her soul, for reasons unknown. "All right…" At last she drawled, but barely moved. She took a step forward and another right after, as if to implant the false notion of obedience. Ever so slowly she approached the entrance of the Hall, yet her curious gaze remained upon the woman now behind her.

Hisana swore that if she twisted her neck any further she might as well break it, yet she knew secrets got the worst of her. What would that spoiled Senju was about to do all alone? The questions within Hisana's mind haunted her so unceasingly as to inspire madness. She was a constant speculator about things that had been happening around and by time, that quiet contemplation grew into an intense desire for knowledge.

She needed answers of the gradual changes in the atrocious heiress, answers for the incumbent chaos, the role her brother played in all, and last but not least she craved to unveil the truth behind the Sarutobi clan. To be left out and treated ordinary; there was nothing she hated more.

Hisana stopped at the last stair and placed her hand upon the handle. The turmoil in her brain had grown too acute thus she could not stop herself from keeping her eyes fixed on the other.

Only seconds separated her from the truth. Behind the walls tones of the impatient echoed, but she did not care.

All her senses were focused on the heiress who was now too occupied as to pay attention to her surroundings. One of her hands rested upon her bosom, most probably on the pendant Kakashi gave to her. And there was that other, pale, tremulous fingers unable to cease their afflicting motion. Tsunade closed her eyes from which drops of effort sneaked through. Little murmurs left unvoiced between her lips, something not audible to any ears.

And then, on Hisana's ravished sight burst the stupendous spectacle of ultimate truth of what must have been the Senju's crime. A well-defined shock held her breath for over a second, and as she staggered backwards, she very well fell inside the Hall.

"Hisana-san?" Shikaku stood beside the stupefied and reached his arm out to her. "Need a hand?"

 _What she had just seen, she must tell no one._

 ** _A few moments later…_**

"What is that smirk on your mouth, Senju?" Madara inquired, upon beholding the heiress bow with a smile so wickedly luscious he felt his senses stir up with curiosity for its reason.

"Nothing, Madara." Tsunade began, and lifted her eyes at the man in front of her. "It's just…You sit on that dragon throne as if it was yours. Jokes of this nature make me laugh." She replied with a softened smile.

The Uchiha King wished nothing else but to slap that audacious woman. For a brief moment he lifted his hand from his stomach, upon which he had them rested pensively, but Orochimaru withheld him as he placed his palm on the King's shoulder.

Then, just as yesterday, he lowered his face to the Uchiha's ear and whispered secrets of the most unsettling kind. Madara's lively mood instantly returned and he welcomed the rest of those present, with a laugh. "So, where shall we begin?"

Tsunade cleared her throat and gazed into the King's eyes as she began. "You can have the Land of Mist."

Over his features came a smile of content. "What else?" He listened with piqued interest.

"Shikaku-sama will grant you people both civilians and samurai who are willing to change sides and join you. I wished for his presence to have no misunderstanding."

"Very well…" Madara nodded and hid behind a contemptuous smirk. "What about the Rinnegan?" The two wicked madmen listened with keen attention to her words, since their curiosity had been aroused to a high pitch.

"You shall not have the Rinnegan, if it means hurting Shuya-kun…." Here, Tsunade paused for a moment, tilted her head down but as upon continuing, she looked back at the King. "However…I agree to your offer. You can have my blood."

The horrified pause of men was of comparatively brief duration during which even the King became still as the grave. The Senju's words struck him speechless. But not long was he left in awe when Orochimaru's wicked voice broke the oppressive silence.

"Are you aware that such promises must be kept at all cost?"

"Wai-…" Hisana's mouth parted but once again she was silenced.

"Yes I am." The heiress nodded without frailness. "And I expect the same from you, Madara. You can have what you want but you have to give me something in return. I trade Kirigakure for Konohagakure, the men for the safety of those who stay, and I am willing to trade my blood for Kakashi's freedom."

"We also take Asuma." Orochimaru replied instead of the King. Tsunade's fierceness excited both demons at the throne, although whilst the Serpent was cautious, Madara was simply dumbfounded.

"You need him for the summoning, is that so?" Tsunade asked, although the answer was crystal clear.

Hisana was biting her lip as she struggled to remain quiet. This agreement seemed no way favourable to the spoiled woman so why would she accept such offer? She had no right to engage in this discussion, and was already in great advantage being allowed to be in the chamber. She must detain the maddening thoughts in her mind.

"Once he has done his part, what do you wish to do? If he is willing to help you, then be it so. But you cannot keep him forever."

"We play only fair with you, Senju." Orochimaru sharpened his eyes as he teased her further. She was definitely smarter than she seemed so, and has already surpassed Hashirama's mental prowess. _What a nuisance_.

"No, you don't, Serpent." Tsunade answered without a pause, now turning her attention to the King. "You have also taken Kurenai-san hostage."

"What makes you think that?" The King elevated his forehead into innumerable wrinkles whilst blood rushed to his face.

"I can hear your heart quicken. You are sweating. Hah, you are easy to read!" Tsunade narrowed her eyes. "I haven't seen her for a while now. It can only be you. I want her back too."

Madara laughed at the young woman's bravery. "Do you have anything else to offer me for her? If only your uncle had guts, he could have definitely lived longer."

"You deny it? Let us not argue the matter. If you want the men to join you instead of me killing them all without a blink of an eye, you hand her over too. I do not wish to waste any more time here."

"I am thunderstruck at the extent of your audacity, Senju. I am positively, upon my soul." Here, Madara closed his eyes and placed his hand upon his heart. The King considered for a few moments and said after a pause; "very well then."

The decision has been made. An agreement has been declared. Peace was ensured in Konoha. And against all glee, a dead weight hung upon everyone. It hung upon their limbs, oppressed their minds, the chambers of their hearts. Albeit the Mad King agreed, nothing quite felt right.

Tsunade forced herself not to perceive the bitterness in the expression of Hisana, for she could not have Asuma back, and gazed down steadily into the depths of the ebony floor.

Madara rose from the marvellously carved chair and clapped his hands together. In a sonorous voice, he began. "My dear servant, show the way to the vault and set the hunter free. And that useless wench, Kurenai as well." There, he took the time to walk down on the stairs and approached the heiress. With a leisure movement, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and glanced at the company in front of them. "We will finalize this contract, in the meantime." He smiled with silent amusement.

Some of the faces in the Hall seemed to hold expressions of the most concerned kind, and there was a few utterly content. The company thus subsided and Hisana followed the Serpent's lead. Over and over she glanced back at the couple at the doors. An increasing and defined notion of panic seemed to rise in her soul for the second time, and for a brief moment, she stopped on her heels. They were now too far to go back, and the large doors were slowly closing to veil the King and the heiress behind the rigid oaken curtains.

The air was cold and misty as they walked. Debris of the Palace lay in wild disorder amidst the tall, unmown grass, which sprang up around the feet and ankles of the passengers. Fallen houses choked up the streets as the eyes lingered on the grey, dull scenery. The most fetid and poisonous smells everywhere prevailed and within the vapoury and pestilential atmosphere could be discerned lying in the alleys or rotting under the windowless habitations, the carcass of many perished during the dark times of wars.

Their way at every step grew more quiet and more horrible; the paths more narrow and more intricate. Huge stones and beams falling momently from the decaying roofs above the group of samurai gave evidence of the vast height of the surrounding houses and while actual exertion became necessary to force a passage through frequent heaps of rubbish, it was by no means seldom that the hand fell upon a skeleton or rested upon a more fleshly corpse.

"They did this all?" Hisana whispered to Shikaku, nauseated at the picturesque impiety that spread wherever the eye could see.

"Madara is a very strict leader, my dear. It was only fair to teach them honour." Orochimaru replied on the simplest of tones and unlocked the vault's iron gates. "This way."

Suddenly, as the samurai stumbled and stopped the entrance of the tall and ghastly-looking tomb, a yell more than usually shrill from the throat of the excited Hisana was replied to from within, in a rapid succession of wild, laughter-like, and fiendish shrieks. Nothing daunted at sounds which, of such a nature, at such a time, and in such a place, might have curdled the very blood in hearts less irrevocably on fire, the girl rushed headlong past the doors and staggered into the midst of things with a volley of curses.

Hisana felt as if a spell was upon her, and her erratic heart leaped with an exultation she could but ill describe. She descended the dripping steps by the light of some lone candle that lay against the slimy wall and she seemed to know the way albeit never once she has been there. The wild shriek was heard again and grew louder with each step she took. "Kakashi! Kakashi!"

"Hisana!"

She ran towards the source of the sound. "Kakashi!"

"Sister!"

She was ever so close now. "Brother!" Her fingers wrapped around the grid as she arrived into the incumbent blackness.

Looking about her, she beheld many marble slabs bearing coffins, or the remains of coffins and on her left, in a dark, hidden part of the vault stood the priest in white.

"What are you doing here, Hisana?" Kakashi inquired while his ears searched for familiar sounds, and his eyes waited for a familiar image.

"Madara is setting you free." The young woman answered, with a considerable glow of zest in her eyes. "You are going to be all right, Kakashi."

"What is the cost of his freedom?" Jiraiya then stepped forward. To have Madara agree to such generosity must have required something of high cost. As he contemplated on it, his face turned wrinkled with fright at the thought.

By now, Kakashi recognized those peculiar changes upon the priest's features and thus he quickly inquired, "Where is Tsunade?"

Silence fell upon them for a brief elapse of time as Hisana bit her lips in order to muffle the words so painful to voice, save for that diabolic and hysterical laughter behind the pale-haired samurai.

Hisana backed from the cell, and her eyes sought the source of such malignity. Albeit she endeavoured so keenly to deny the truth, the second that grim snickering lit up the quietude, she knew well to whom that belonged. Of course…Asuma was supposed to be here, but all the eye could see was Kakashi and that priest. That thick, mad blackness behind her brother…That was someone too.

The humane voice of her beloved was lost; beyond doubt it was him. The thousand drums in her heart beat with feverish vigour as she backed from the grid and watched the demon emerge from its shadow.

"How wonderful! The transformation is finally complete." Orochimaru chuckled as now he too was standing beside the young Hatake; the rest arrived just in time for the wicked spectacle.

"Transformation…" She could barely utter those sounds but couldn't keep her eyes away from him. "Asuma…"

The people exchanged murmurs of wonder and fear when the Shinigami revealed his true form. Gods knew he was no longer of this world, yet to her horror she saw in its eaten-away and bone-revealing outlines a leering, abhorrent travesty on the human shape; and in its mouldy, disintegrating apparel an unspeakable quality that chilled her even more.

Asuma's now coal-black skin had a morbid chill and dryness and the cellular structure of the tissue seemed exaggeratedly coarse. His hair, like a crowd of raven flames rose upwards to the sky and his mouth reached from ear to ear, revealing a set of ivory fangs. On his chest there formed a very peculiar mole, or blackish spot and the sinister beast floated in the cold air, looking at the group in sardonic arrogance. Hisana was almost paralysed, but not too much so to break the spell in which the emotionless, voiceless monster held her.

"I believe that the time is ripe to hold up our end of the deal." Orochimaru clapped his hands together, welcoming the events with fervour. "The Hatake and the useless wench are free. We are taking the Shinigami with us."

"Where is the heiress?" Kakashi repeated the question, now to the Serpent.

"She is with Madara." The Snake replied with a contemptuous smirk playing down his fine mouth. "Do you want me to entertain you with the details?" Orochimaru licked his upper lip with the tip of his tongue.

To that proposition, a chill of disdain rushed down the samurai's spine, and his fingers clenched in tight fists. "I must see Madara."

"No, kid." Orochimaru responded on his usually eldritch tone and shortly after resumed. "You go back to the Palace with your men and take the girl in the other cell."

"I will not live in a place with Ma-…"

"Kakashi…." Hisana sighed as at last she lifted her gaze from Asuma. "Kakashi, they are leaving. Konoha is ours."

"What are you saying?" Wrinkles of confusion plastered over his face as he awaited for explanation.

"Tsunade made a deal. We are almost all free. The land is ours and we have peace, for now."

"What is the cost?!"

"Ahh, I'm full." Before anyone could have sensed his presence, the Mad Uchiha King stepped out of Orochimaru's shadow. His madness held no affinity.

"My King…Please, allow me." The Serpent bowed and with a soft and humble motion he wiped off the little drops of blood that framed the King's admirable chin.

The group began to murmur again, whilst the two Hatake tensed in wrath.

"We shall meet in three months. Meanwhile, I may hand Asuma back to you once our business is done."

"Yes, King Madara." Dan was swift to answer, for he knew there were merely seconds separating the white-crowned samurai from attacking the King. Like Jiraiya, he too felt upset about the decision but there was nothing to be done, what's more, it was over for now. En masse, nobody had a word in the decision of the royals even if it was disadvantageous to those they cherished. "We should return to the Palace…There are plenty of things we must do." He then added with a bow to his companions.

"The Senju is in her bedroom. I left her there. I send my regards to that sweet thing." Madara whistled with a grim smile to Kakashi who fled from the scene in that instant.

Hisana sighed with a heavy heart beating in her bosom. She looked up at the Shinigami and whispered a message ever so short and ever so loving, to him. Asuma did not reply, although he comprehended each and every unvoiced sound.

"Jiraiya, let's go. Tell Rin to meet us at the Konoha gates. Lord Shikaku will bring the soldiers who join us." Orochimaru said and the priest nodded in assent.

"Yes, Lord Orochimaru." Jiraiya answered and disappeared.

Very soon afterwards everyone was on their way, depending on the destination whither their way took them. Hisana stood at the vault's entrance and watched the Shinigami vanish in the mist by Orochimaru's side.

Jiraiya gathered the rest of the Uchiha's followers and within an hour they were nowhere, leaving only the destruction behind. Dan sat under a pale willow, hidden amidst its bony fingers, while remorse was feasting on his soul; he has done nothing to protect the girl he loved, merely balked her in every step on the way.

Kakashi rifled through the mystic fevered, apocalyptic sunset of reds and golds and purples and pestilential greens. He felt as if his heart jumped out, as if his lungs gave up their function, as if his muscles worked no more to the commands of his brain. The generally short distance now seemed to resemble to a never-ending labyrinth where sounds of death rang in his ears. He swore he could hear cries that were shocking; and as he ran amidst the wild grass and human debris, listening to their vanishing echoes, he trembled at the thought of what might have happened that not even his prowess could fix.

He cannot even hint what it was like, for it was a fear of all that is unclean, uncanny, unwelcome, abnormal, and detestable. It was the ghoulish sensation of decay, torment, and desolation; the putrid, dripping eidolon of loss, that inspired him with a lasting loathing towards its begetter.

Kakashi threw the ancient doors open and stepped into the spacious, low-ceiled chamber, which was dimly lighted by its two dusty windows. His eyes sought eagerly for whom he loved so keenly and upon beholding her amidst the thick velvet sheets and soft little pillows, the idea of death was swiftly expunged from the brain. "Tsuna…!" Her name rolled off his tongue like honey.

The samurai approached the divan and with ever so careful motions he brushed a few cushions away to make space for his frame. The heiress fitted in his embrace like yin completes the yang. Kakashi wrapped his arms around her and planted a long, soft kiss upon her forehead. "Tsuna…" The quiet beatings within her ribcage soothed his thunderous soul as he knew she was alive.

"Kakashi…" At first, it was a singular whisper, and by degrees her voice regained some strength. She called his name again as she uplifted her eyes.

So intense an expression of romance, perhaps he should call it, or of unworldliness, as that which gleamed from her deep-set golden eyes, had never so sunk into his heart of hearts before. He know not how it was, but this peculiar expression of the eye, wreathing itself occasionally into the lips, was the most powerful, if not an absolute spell, which riveted his interest in this woman.

That she loved him, he should not have doubted; and he was very well aware that, in a bosom such as hers, love would reign with no ordinary passion.

"What have you done, Tsuna?" He asked with concern, and stroked the silken tendrils out of her face.

"It is nothing. Do not worry about me." She replied, greatly softened and leaned her cheek onto his chest.

"Madara said he returns in three months. Why?" Kakashi pushed her in inquiry.

"Can we discuss it later?" The heiress sighed with a feeble smile on her lips; she did not only miss the samurai but longed deeply to feel his bashful affection. There were reasons plenty as the drops within the ocean that banned them to love each other and thus expression of feelings was always a peculiar thing.

"I need to know what stupidity came over you, so I can fix it."

"There is nothing to fix." She retorted wearily and endeavoured to calm his spirit with a tender kiss on the lips.

Kakashi responded to her loving enchantment and replied once his mouth was free. "Do you need anything? Do you want me to-…?"

"No. Do nothing." She shook her head gently and looked back at him. "Stay here. That is enough."

"All right…" Kakashi nodded and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He wished nothing else but to stay there, enveloped in stillness with her whom he adored so deeply.

Thus ran his meditation, until with the greatest suddenness there came up to their ears the measured steps of elders.

"They must have come to see you…" Kakashi unclosed his eyes and aided the heiress to sit up. "Here…"

"Thank you…" Tsunade offered a light smile while the samurai sat beside her.

He took her hand in his and the heiress let them enter.

Lord Danzo and the officials - as it was awaited- stood at the slowly opening doors and bowed to the heiress in polite manner. Their presence induced within both a disquieting effect although for now, none of them said a word.

"Kakashi-sama…" Lord Danzo began with a wicked smile hiding behind his dull face. "May we interrupt you for a second?" The men behind him exchanged furtive whispers among each other whilst they waited for the samurai's response.

"Uh…Of course." Nervously, Kakashi ran his fingers through his hair and sprang from the divan into a straight position. He hesitated for a moment but Tsunade gave a soft squeeze to his hand.

"It is all right. Just go." She said on a mild tone.

"All right…Okay. Just a minute, Tsuna…" Nodded Kakashi but an expression of perplexity came over his face. Something did not feel quite right no matter how much he wished to hide it.

At last, Kakashi vacated the room, leaving the heiress alone. With a demure motion, he pulled the doors together and travelled his eyes at the elders surrounding him. "What is the meaning of this?"

"We shall talk a bit further, if you don't mind Kakashi Hatake." The Minister offered a slight, vicious smile and beckoned the samurai to follow them.

They strolled under the black, mute trees and the night-winds blew ceaselessly amidst the large green crowns of oaks. The moon shone down cold through the thin mournful mists and casted long, funereal shadows on the men.

"So, Kakashi…May you enlighten us about the relationship between you and the Senju heiress?" Inquired the Minister of Interior Affairs, musingly.

"There is nothing, apart from…respect." He replied, thrown quite off his guard.

"A man cannot be too careful in the choice of his enemies." Said Lord Danzo on an ever suggestive tone.

As he did, so did Kakashi become suddenly and agonisingly aware of the true nature of the conversation. "You consider Tsunade Senju an enemy?" His voice failed emotion and his features darkened in angst.

The group stopped in front of an abandoned little chamber at the very corner of the Palace's garden, and Lord Danzo at first ordered him to enter; the piece was furnished in the barest and most primitive possible way. It appeared to be a kind of sitting-room, for it had a table and several chairs. Papers and scrolls were very few, and in the prevailing gloom the samurai could not readily discern their titles.

"Please, take a seat." The Minister offered while the others seated themselves comfortably.

"I would rather stand, thank you." Kakashi refused and stood in the middle of the chamber.

"Very well then." Danzo smiled and lifted his ancient gaze at the man in front of him. "We have been discussing the future of Konoha, and we considered best if the Senju heiress wouldn't reign at all." Without a blink of remorse he thus began.

"If I am not mistaken, she has just saved all of us, including Konoha. She saved me too."

"Well, it was all but her womanly charm; something the village cannot use all the time. Madara will eventually grow tired of her offers and then we will be in danger." Pointed out the official with much acuteness and the samurai became rigid with anger.

The longer Kakashi listened to the man and beheld the other's agreeing nods and gazes, the more he became infuriated with the audacious words Danzo dared use.

"She has been feeling unwell lately, and although her power far exceeds her ancestors', the Senju girl is in no stable state." Lord Homura joined the conversation with a serious gaze.

"What are you saying now? She is not well?" Emotions raged in Kakashi's soul and confusion rapidly overspread his face. He was farther from her every day…How long would it take until he was but a stranger, unaware of his lover's joy or sadness?

Lord Danzo shook his head. "She is becoming a nuisance to us, just like King Hashirama was. We cannot guarantee that she won't become mad, with time."

"So what do you want? Kill her?"

"No. Of course not. Not yet, anyway." Lord Homura smiled grimly to which Kakashi growled.

"Kakashi Hatake. If you would listen…"

The pale-crowned samurai shot his gaze at the other vicious beast in a skin of a man.

"We are willing to appoint you as the next King. Lord Mifune had long agreed to our offer and will ask you to take the throne."

"You want me to take over this land with no actual right to reign?!"

The officials nodded in accord. "Anything can be managed, if you agree to it. Nobody supports the Senju. No one, who could have a word in this matter." Lord Danzo furthered without the slightest glimpse of emotion. He spoke still as the waters, for he knew nothing could interfere with his plans.

"Think about it, Kakashi Hatake. To ensure the safety of the dwellers, to rebuild this once beautiful land…Also, it is a promise for your son to grow up safe and sound, for your clan to regain its power."

"What will happen to her? To the heiress?"

"She may stay here within these walls, of course. The rest, partly, will be up to you." Lord Danzo began but the other finished the thought.

"She could be a royal concubine." Lord Homura mused with an inordinate passion for pleasure. He enjoyed everything soft and innocent.

"If you want me to feed your tongue to the dogs, you do not say that again."

"Oh…" Homura chuckled but grew silent afterwards.

"You must decide this tonight and once Lord Mifune arrives, we will take care of the rest. If you refuse, someone else shall be King, but the Senju will not be Queen." Lord Danzo replied, suddenly serious.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

Tsunade was lying on the divan, listening to the pandemonium outside. Her deep-slanted eyes were riveted at the dull light of the moon that sneaked through the heavily draped windows, and smiled at the eldritch baying of hounds.

Suddenly there came a sudden knock on the door and she sat up to seem more presentable. "Come in."

Hisana slipped through the entrance and bowed in her best of demeanours. "I was…" She hesitated for a brief elapse of time and cleared her throat as she resumed. "I was wondering if you saw Kakashi…I wanted to speak with him."

"No…" Tsunade shook her head softly. "He left a while ago…Lord Danzo was wishing to see him."

"Ah…" Hisana frowned but did not speak or move.

"Is there something else, Hisana-san?" Tsunade asked with a warm but feeble smile and at length rose from the divan. She tightened her velvet robe and brushed a tendril of her hair behind her ear.

"Yes, actually…" The young Hatake nodded and took a step closer. "How are you?"

"I am fine." Tsunade responded, perplexed at the sudden concern from the girl.

"I saw you." Upon beginning, Hisana grew nervous. She was not supposed to talk to an heiress such a way, her tongue so peppered and sharp without the right to do so.

"You saw me?" Tsunade raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Hisana continued. "When you asked me to go in first. I saw it. The Chidori."

Blood curdled in her veins, and the heiress grew pale at the truth. "Were you looking for Kakashi to tell him?"

"No." She shook her head. "You should be the one telling him. He has the right to know it. How long have you known?"

"A few days only…" She bit upon her lip for a brief moment, and sighed.

"Why are you keeping it a secret?"

"Hisana…"

"No. Don't. You must have your reason. I understand. But you cannot just go around offering your blood to people for the safety of my brother. How dumb can you be? How can you risk your life? And the child's? If Kakashi figured this out, he would be raging. So don't. Don't ever do that again. I get it, you love him. You are not Rin; fine, but you are terribly reckless."

"I am sorry…"

"Don't apologize from me. We don't like each other, remember? I only care about my family. You cannot hurt Kakashi this way. And…As much as I hate to say this, you cannot hurt his child either. We have to figure something out until Madara returns. And you have to tell him. It is almost visible anyway."

"Please understand, Hisana…" Tsunade began as she took a deep breath. "If he knew now, it would affect his decisions. Your grandfather is coming too. I have to rebuild this land, you know? I have to help people. I believe it is best if I wait, so Kakashi will do what he truly wishes so."

"And if something happens to you? And he loses you both?! Will you leave a wreck here for me? You are a selfish bastard, Tsunade. You never think of the result of your actions and you are so eager to give up everything for my brother, without considering what may be brought upon us during the process."

Tsunade sighed as she knew Hisana was right. She never made good decisions. She never thought of herself or what might happen with one reckless move. It was all but blind love. "Nothing will happen. Everything will be all right."

"You dare say that now after some bloodsucking beast feasted from you. You didn't see the worry on Kakashi's face. You have no idea how he feels about you. You are so selfish. I wish I could slap you right now."

"Hisana, listen…"

"Don't "Hisana" me, Senju. I will keep an eye on you. And if you don't tell him, then I will. You can bet on it."

All the heiress could do was a nod of agreement, albeit inside she was feverishly insisting. How long could she control everything? Was she in control at all? Who else may knew of her secret?

Between them ensued a moment of silence where even the ants toiling work could be heard from outside. Slowly then, the blonde lifted her eyes at the other and bowed deeply. "Thank you, Hisana."

Her actions struck the other with surprise. "Thank what?"

"For telling me this."


	18. Treacherous Kiss

_**"Yet each man kills the thing he loves**_  
 _ **By each let this be heard**_  
 _ **Some do it with a bitter look**_  
 _ **Some with a flattering word**_  
 _ **The coward does it with a kiss**_  
 _ **The brave man with a sword" -Oscar Wilde**_

* * *

In the silence of the night and in the lone hour of the full moon with a lustre that Kakashi has never before seen, his heart was beating heavily as he walked, steadily. The winds that bathed his brow came unto him laden with soft sighs and indistinct murmurs and filled the night's cold air with melancholy.

By this time of the day, the first fury of the unwholesome tempest had spent itself, or perhaps he did not feel it so much as he did so before, amidst those four walls of evil. A singular change came over the heavens; instead of hellish red over the vast vault, was now in every direction stillness as black as pitch. The samurai sighed when the burden over his heart grew heavier with each step that reached closer to his destination; after a short elapse of time he speculated whether his plans had common sense in them at all, or he was impressively _selfish_.

Afflicted, he stopped in his ramble and shot his gaze at the starless sky. His hands moved upwards and he held his head for a moment, wondering. Lord Danzo's words rang in his ears like loud bells of Yomi's gates; each and every poisonous syllable, shrill as a scythe's blade. He was growing agitated in that spot to where he became rooted.

Seconds expired into the Nothingness, but he did not move, just gazed at the sky so intently he could be falsely thought to be a statue. His arms, at length, fell back to the sides and as he was, he involuntarily closed his eyes in indignation. The lids clenched themselves together as if in a spasm.

 _How long has it been?_ How long has it been when he was nothing but a mere soldier? When he called himself a samurai not a treacherous king? When he was nothing but poor? Where were those times where he had just a wretched wife and an innocent child? When he knew nothing of lovers, and passion grew from the flames of duty, not from the flames of desire?

 _One night._ It took one night. _One second. One impulse... One glimpse…_ It was something so ridiculously trivial that had changed it all forever. So insignificant... Just a look…Just a look at _her_.

There, lost in sickening torpor, Kakashi muttered a hurried prayer to the gods and unclosed his deep dark eyes.

Slowly, he dragged himself through the long spears of grass, walked under the feeble moonlight and in the thick cold air. Minutes so frivolous passed then, that seemed like eternity was embracing him from head to foot. He wouldn't have minded becoming lost and non-existent.

It was during those wildly funereal thoughts that upon beholding his lover's image on the porch, instantly his senses lit up and the samurai's eyes dilated in worry. At the unexpected sight in front of him, Kakashi fastened his speed and rushed to the royal chamber's little entrance beside which Tsunade has been sitting motionless, in this weather so dismal.

"What is she doing there?" He wondered with a face lined in perplexity. Indubitably, the time was not quite appointed for comfortable star gazing, or any sorts of action to be done comfortably. "She will catch a cold like that..." Kakashi noted, as he soon realized she was sleeping outside in a single layer of her night robe. He knelt in front of her in utter concern and examined the contour of the pale forehead which was faultless but lifelessly cold. In that instant, every shadow of anger faded from the countenance of the samurai.

Her entire frame was interestingly saturnine, even cadaverously pale. "Tsunade…Tsuna." Calling her with much suavity, Kakashi brushed the silken tendrils away from her face. "Hey, Tsuna…" He waited patiently for her to awake and his hands ran back and forth on her arms to warm the body up a little.

Beside her lay a pack of cigarette that for a brief instant nonplussed the man. After a little more minute scrutiny it became evident it has not yet been opened. Perhaps, she was supposed to give it to Asuma, for he enjoyed the thick claws of smoke stroking his frame.

Presently, a sudden gush of icy breeze brushed past the samurai's uniform and chilled both to the core. To say no more, he picked the girl up from the ancient oak of the stair and dropped the pack of cigarette into his pocket.

"Kakashi…" The feeble crimson lights of the tōrōs[1] in the generally dark chamber urged her to awake.

Carefully, Kakashi placed her back on her feet and before he could have uttered a syllable, gentle arms wrapped around him and the samurai swiftly lost any thoughts he considered significant to voice. That embrace, just how magnificent it was! Never with someone else could he feel so much affection in one simple motion. Ineffable feelings lay unveiled in that moment of locked arms and brushing bodies.

Languidly, the silver-crowned warrior's fingers sneaked up to his lover's hair and with gentle, stroking fingers did he sooth her restless heart which pounded so forcefully against his own, he dreaded it would jump right out of that little ribcage.

"Is everything all right?" At length, he inquired from the heiress, although the question could have also been addressed to him. _Nothing was all right_. What a stupid question! Everything was wrong; the world, the people, him and her. Why would everything be all right? Wasn't she so repulsively used by the Uchiha lord? Wasn't he such revoltingly a puppet of higher demands? _How on earth_ did he think that asking if all was fine was a smart idea?

He still had to tell her…They must speak. The hour has finally come. He **cannot** pretend it was indeed all right.

Kakashi's heart picked up the same, erratic pace he was just trying to calm in her beloved's chest. Was she sensing the truth? Was it the reason of her agitated spirit? Upon forming such sullen thoughts in his brain, he felt her embrace tighten. Most certainly there was something. _Yes, yes there was_. He looked down at her face and noticed a disquieting glow in her deep honey eyes. Even those deliciously full lips parted but no sounds were yet voiced. Kakashi began to count in his mind; _"3…2…1"_ and then, he said; "We should talk."

"We need to talk, Kakashi."

Silence ensued for a moment during which both hearts suddenly ceased their maddening rhythm. Eyes sought for words yet unknown and verdicts yet undeclared. _One… Two…Three._ It took three seconds until the beating organs regained their rapid speed and blood rushed to the brains and cheeks bloomed in flaming red.

"Oh?" The samurai took a slight step backwards to better observe the young woman in front of him, if not for he was utterly nervous. "All right, then. Tell me."

"No, no…You can start." She replied in an air of anxious trepidation and moved her small hands from her stomach up into arms folded over her bosom.

"Are you sure? Perhaps if you spoke first, uhm…it must be important."

Tsunade shook her head and looked back at the warrior with a feigned, warm smile over her graciously chiselled visage. "Uh…It is really nothing."

Thus, Kakashi bowed in acknowledgment. He took the girl by the hand and led her to the futon where both sat down in a small but nervous distance. For a little while, none of them dared speak. Silence befell on the sullen chamber once again where only the red lights of lanterns surmised the presence of people. In the next instant, however and without any indication, the samurai began. "Lord Danzo and the officials will not vote for you at the Kisaki no Sennin[2]." He paused for a reaction, but she could only nod her head as if she was expecting such blasphemy to occur. Confusion spread over his face but he shook his head to diminish its traces. "Tsunade…"

"Continue. Please."

"They wish to appoint someone else. They asked me." Kakashi spoke with distinctness. The fact that her visage was unreadable alarmed the silver-crowned warrior, for she was never a person to hide any emotions. And there she was, with a faint smile over the trembling lips and sharp eyes iridescent in the shades of betrayal. She carried all the weight of the world in those two furtive ornaments upon her face.

"These people feed on power. They were beyond content when King Hashirama perished, as it was likely someone among these bastards could rise up to the throne, if you too were lost."

"I did what everyone expected me to do." The heiress sighed resignedly. "Isn't it curious? The more I care for people, they less they need me."

"Tsuna, what they need is you to sacrifice yourself for this place. They will have less work then, to form Konoha to their very own taste." Here, Kakashi halted and zeroed the distance between the two. It was true that he was alarmed, yet to his soul nothing was more deadly than the afflicted sight of the woman he loved so keenly. "I accepted the offer, so I can help you. Konoha will not be completely under their control."

"The King has a right to encourage, warn and advise his Officials or seek any information about the administration. Except these ordinary powers, all other powers of the King are mostly wielded by his Officials. I saw my uncle's last notes, Kakashi. He believed they would carry out duties most beneficial for this village, even in times without a ruler. But there are only but a few I could truly trust."

After a second of contemplation, he softly continued. "We still have the right to refuse anything unjust. The longer we detain them, the more time we gain."

"That is true…" Tsunade nodded in assent and lifted her eyes at him. "Both Shikaku-sama and Minato-sama…They are trustable. You must ensure they keep their title among the Officials, so they will be able to help you govern this village."

"I-….I could also marry you." Kakashi suddenly proposed whilst blush mantled his cheeks as he spoke. Indubitably, he lacked the gift of evincing emotions in a proper manner and was usually lost in his quiet, unreadable demeanour. "So you can preserve your influence on Konoha."

Both hearts beat mad again, but whilst Kakashi's was blazing with affection, Tsunade was having a wretched headache.

"You…You would marry me?" She cocked an eyebrow as she endeavoured to stay calm.

"Of course." Kakashi nodded in the positive and uttered those two simple words with a feeble glimpse of smile. The samurai was by now very well aware that his feelings were totally different from any, which he had hitherto experienced, in the presence of even the most celebrated specimens of female loveliness. An unaccountable, and what he was compelled to consider a magnetic, sympathy of soul for soul, mesmerized his whole powers of thought and feeling, upon the admirable object before him. He saw, he felt, he knew that he was deeply, madly, irrevocably in love.

"You would marry me so I can stay in the Palace and help Konoha?"

However, to confess a feeling like that, it took more than a mere second of a rushed offer. Kakashi endeavoured to help her in all the ways possible, yet time was short and options were but a few. He simply _could not_ speak the truth of his soul, for never once it ended well before. "Yes. It is a good deal."

 _"_ _You bastard…You damn, bastard…You think this is some sort of help? Am I that deplorable that I need your "generous" offer? Who do you think you are? Don't you dare think I feel anything for you. You think I am thankful, don't you? You are stupid, Kakashi Hatake. Stop looking at me with those eyes. Just stop. You are waiting for me to speak, aren't you? Why are you watching me? Your face…You are turning pale. You are nervous, I can tell…Hands sweating. Your beautiful eyes, seeking answers in mine. I won't give you that pleasure. I hate you right now."_

The heiress was swift to calm her thoughts and then said; "We should gather a meeting. Only those two officials and you present. Perhaps Hisana too. We could figure something out together."

"Uh…O-Okay…Sure." The surprise on his visage was crystal clear, but he did not inquire for details. "I can speak to them in the morning."

"It would be best if you found them tonight. There are still a few hours until sunrise. I need to sleep." Tsunade added with haste and rose from the futon ground. "See you in the morning?" Her question sounded more as a command than as of a sweet offer. Before Kakashi could have replied, she riveted her gaze away from him as a sign of an ended conversation. Also, the lurking spark of indignation within her golden orbs was forced unseen, thus to avoid any further exchange of words with the samurai.

"Should we-…"

"Just leave."

He well understood her every motion. Upon a soft kiss on the cheek, Kakashi vacated the chamber.

To suffer, it was one long moment, during which Tsunade grew into a paralysing immobility. Thoughts of the most undesirable kind flitted across her brain and spread their poisonous wings over the consciousness. And now again all was void.

That nebulous light, that spirit-lifting vision of a man had been extinguished. The strict embrace of the _Shadow_ extinguished the light of enduring Love. That longing thrill had vibrated itself into quiescence. For full three seconds she stared at the sliding doors in wild coveting for him to return. She would not know what to say to him, but words were really not that significant now. There was nothing, however.

 ** _A few hours later…_**

On the land of Konoha the accursed red dawn shone thinly, tearing a path for its light with feeble horns through the lethal foliage of great oaks. Within the depths of the valley that surrounded the village, where the light reached not, moved forms not meet to be beheld.

In trees that grew gigantic in crumbling gardens leapt little foxes, while in and out of deep cemetery vaults writhed poisonous serpents and unknown things without a name. Vast were the waters which enwheeled the vicinity, and mighty were the cataracts from which they fell. Around Konoha lay the river Shinwa, whose waters were slimy and filled with long, thick weeds. From hidden springs it arose and flowed endlessly into the great forests of the Land of Fire.

Within the village, curving alleys and passages blinked with small-paned windows, if not all together broken and above ancient doorways sullen daylight showed only destruction and the throngs of people that seethed through the streets were dismal, famished wanderers with hardened faces and bleeding eyes, ruined strangers without dreams.

With three measured knocks upon the oaken doors, Hisana stood with nerves unstrung. She could not yet comprehend the reason of her summoning nor did she saw the need for any kind of secret meetings. Things were supposed to be getting better, were they not? Before she could have pondered any further, her knock was answered by a curious voice some distance behind the door, asking her name and business; and these things being stated, there came an opening of the door where she had stood.

As she stepped in, a rush of cool air greeted the young woman and though the day was one of the hottest of late July, she shivered as she crossed the threshold into a large chamber whose rich and tasteful decoration surprised her in this nest of squalor. The crimson velvet furniture, old Japanese paintings and rigid bookshelves all bespoke a royal's study rather than a simple room. Indubitably so, it took longer time for her to adjust to the late magnificence of the Palace where colours and shapes radiated life and vividness instead of ice cold sensations, as back in the Land of Iron.

"So…" She began whilst she observed the participants around her. "We are here because…"

"Kakashi is going to become king." The blonde spoke without the slightest emotion displayed in her melodic voice.

"Ha-ha-ha…" Hisana laughed, and cleared her throat with a more serious of an expression plastering over her face. "Please be serious, Tsunade." For a few, long moments she observed the other woman in the room. She watched her intently that chilled the girl to the marrow; the Senju gazed her like ice, piercing her skin with those two sharp eyes. There was not a wrinkle to tell otherwise, not a small curl of the lips to betray the lie. It was not a lie, after all. _What a nonsense…_ "This is just not right."

"This is the only option we have right now." Said Shikaku, his features lined with equal severity. He stepped forward from the shadow and bowed to the Hatake as he continued. "We have 60 days until the others arrive, including Lord Mifune. What we can do now is restore Konoha with the strongest ruler and the fastest way possible."

"Tsunade is stronger than most of us. I see no problem here." Hisana retorted, her voice ringing with indignation. "After all we have no business in this pesthole, we only came here to help, didn't we?" A confusion of associated ideas possessed her brain as she argued, leading her to giggle again. "This is simply stupid. Kakashi never wanted to be king. He kept telling me how we must leave everything behind to help you, people and get the Senju back to their doomed chair. Is he a liar then?" She spoke in vain anger.

"Listen, Hisa…" Kakashi noticed the girl's fuming eyes and stepped closer in consolation. "This is a bit more complicated than that. You are right. It was not my choice to become anything else than what I am now. But it is our only option to ensure that Tsunade can take over the throne without anyone holding her back from it."

"The elders dislike me still. It is hard to earn back trust, especially if I have never earned it, or so it seems." Tsunade continued with mildness. "Kakashi can help me, they listen to him. They do not listen to me. They fear me and what I may become."

"But you changed. Even I can tell."

"She is right, Lady Tsunade." Minato then joined the conversation. "Don't you believe there is something else beside the elders' decision?"

"What else could it be?" She cocked an eyebrow as she pondered but reason she could not yet find.

"I don't know…" Minato replied, and for a brief elapse of time, stillness ensued in the room. "It is not like the Officials would want the Throne for themselves." He laughed, parrying the idea.

"Minato-sama is right." Kakashi nodded in agreement after a short time of nervous contemplation. "You are better fit for the throne than anyone else I know, Tsuna. It is certainly not about who is good enough to make Konoha thrive. They must have a plan. Something we do not yet know of. Perhaps it is connected to Madara."

"Everyone wants that arsehole dead." Hisana shrugged as she folded her arms over her chest.

"That is true." Tsunade sighed. "Any way…We have to follow the Officials' plans so we can figure out what they truly want. As long as we have someone on the throne they accept and we trust, things can't go too wrong."

In that very moment, the heiress' belief in that agonizing lie was greater than the moon's cold eye. Also, to question everything and everyone would have required more energy from her than what she had to spare. It was simply the only choice to make. "We restore Konoha in 60 days in hands with the Officials. Kakashi will keep them happy by occupying the Dragon Throne. If they want something, you don't decide it alone. You come and tell us and we figure something out, something satisfactory to both sides. Madara can show up anytime, we must keep that in mind. Nobody sleeps more than 3 hours a day, understood?"

"Lady Tsunade-…" Shikaku bowed to speak, the blonde's wild words merely rooting concern in his soul. Albeit a man was fit for such a task, he would never require demands so strict from a woman.

However, she was relentless. "Nobody takes a break. Nobody cares about their comrades, only, I repeat only about their duties."

"Tsunade-…" Hisana bit her lip as the same anxious sensation struck her.

"Shut it! This place is all we have and we are more fragile than ever before. Konoha is our past and future. I don't want to hear anyone whining! We only have two months, don't you get it? Madara will return and these old bastards are hiding something from us! If I see anyone rest, sleep, eat, or chat with anyone else, queen or not I will behead you with my own damn claws." Tsunade added with a considerable show of temper.

"With the samurai, we can train more people to strengthen the village. We keep watch day and night and secure the gates. Nobody comes in; nobody goes out, only those allowed." Kakashi replied after a minute of rigid, cold quietness.

"Shikaku-sama and me can help cleaning up the streets and rebuild the homes with the dwellers." Minato continued.

"We have to ensure that the people remain calm and focused." Shikaku pondered as he patted his chin. "We can gather the wounded, but-…"

"I will take care of that." Tsunade replied before the warrior could have finished his sentence, for she very well knew where her duties lay. "Find everyone who's injured and bring them here. We can open the Drawing Room for them and treat them there until the hospital is rebuilt."

"You cannot do that alone, though." The white-haired samurai spoke in dissent whilst he observed the fearsome perseverance of the heiress with those enchantingly studious eyes. "There are but few who mastered iryou[i] ninjutsu. You and Dan-sama, if I am correct."

"I can teach it." Tsunade replied and did not travel her gaze at him. How could she do so? If she wished to stay so arrogantly cold and dedicated, to shut out the slightest wave of emotion was but the sole option. "I teach it to Hisana and the others. We need nurses in the hospital, and there shall be an apothecary shop as well."

"We could have something for the children too, to keep them busy." Hisana added and an idea struck the heiress.

"The Academy. Children need teachers like him. The next generation must become better than us. They shan't grow up in this misery and darkness. They should be joyous and smart." For a second, the blonde got lost in long cradled dreams that now seemed more urgent than ever before. _An institution to raise children right, while their parents are so toiling to earn some more. To show them the world by opening their minds, to let them play and learn to love each other. To strengthen both in groups and as an individual, such a place should exist indeed…_

She then lifted her eyes at the people that surrounded her and added; "we have to rebuild and reform the school as well. All the children you find give them this order. Let them make something they call their own and can cherish… When Asuma returns, we name him, you Minato-sama, Shikaku-sama all sensei. I have been thinking about it a while now."

Blush veiled the pale cheeks and the samurai bowed deeply in front of the heiress' feet. There was a moment of warmth that passed across the room like a gently caressing breeze of a primaveral day. All gloom was eradicated in that very notion of time so much so that the blonde's full lips curled upwards in a smile.

"We must act now. Later we can figure out what to do with the elders. Our main concern is our home."

"Yes, Lady Tsunade!" Spoke all in consent and the pillars of restauration were successfully put down.

Altogether, they advanced into this inexhaustible maze of unknown desolation in which the greatness of faith laid.

As the weeks passed, the vision of Konoha has bloomed anew. The face of Nature once deformed as if with the ravages of some loathsome disease became engraved only in the recollections of the mind and the vivid smile of earth shone bright again. The days have gone by and the past was but a thin, swift-fading memory of unhuman horrors nobody forced themselves to recall. The men worked with alien-force and with unearthly persistence while women toiled with incessant faith.

Around the village like wildernesses of dreams, sprang up thousands of fantastic trees whole tall and slender stems slanted gracefully towards the light that shone from the deep blue vault of the sky. Brilliant green grass that grew thick and even, veiled the fertile soil of the land, upon which children rushed. And so they rushed at early hours with little kits in their little hands and spelled the musical notes of "Academy" into the cold early air.

Golden and silver fish haunted the river that circled Konoha and their murmur swelled into a lulling melody more divine than that of a harp. Homes and little shops erected in the heart of the valley and tints of the green carpet deepened when star shaped, crimson and purple flowers were planted in gardens and on the corners. A change fell upon things that turned all dimness into magnificence and shutting evil as if forever out by a magic prison-land of grandeur and glory.

The common health and appearance grew steadily worse, till finally at the 47th day, the villagers were forced to put down the tools, the books, and the sword and adopt a static moment for rest.

 ** _On the 47_** ** _th_** ** _day…_**

Some odd nervous affliction had Lord Danzo in its grip, and he found himself at times almost unable to shut his eyes. Konoha's regrowth was beyond unbelievable and still did he struggle to comprehend what power could possibly join so many people in one, diligent hand.

Was there a special type of delusion afflicting him? He seemed to be a prisoner and horror hung broodingly over everything he saw when he glanced out of his office's window. His stomach churned at the joyous faces and the gay smile of children. They were filled with hope, but what kind? What kind of evil source it had? He shuddered at the mere thought of the heiress, so he was fast to call something else to mind while he was waiting. Waiting…Yes, news has spread like wildfire.

Today, a body was found on the travel-worn road of Konoha. Under the thick crown of oaks the Shinigami's body has been recovered; of course, the immortal was alive. The fact that the Uchiha lord returned the Sarutobi drove everyone to the one and inevitable conclusion, that his plans were almost complete. Lord Danzo rose from his chair, folded his arms upon his bosom and roamed easily to and fro until familiar knocks upon the door resounded in the air. "You may enter." Said the vicious demon and feigned a grim smile when the silver-crowned warrior came to his sight. "Thank you for coming here."

Kakashi bowed and replied with a steady voice. "Of course. What was the reason of your summoning?"

"Should we sit down, or are you in a haste?"

"I promised I would be with Asuma when he wakes up." Replied the young Hatake. Truth was, he did not simply wish to wait for his friend to regain consciousness…

It has been forty seven days he has last seen the heiress. As he promised, he made samurai from men, warriors from cowards, and diminished fear from the soul. She too must have been recklessly occupied, and only his own demons could speak about the concern with which he thought of her. Hisana never answered his questions of which Tsunade was the subject and too halted him in satisfying his curious, raging spirit.

"…I would appreciate if we could be quick, Lord Danzo. Please forgive my audacity." Quickly he bowed again and forced his mind to rationality.

"You shan't have to worry, Kakashi." Replied the devil with much suavity and approached the man.

His closeness put Kakashi a little out, but he remained in his place.

"We have been discussing things with Lord Homura, most you already know of…" Lord Danzo began and slowly walked around the other as if impaling him with those dull, lifeless eyes, seeking traces of unknown truths. "Your nomination for king is in less than two weeks."

"I know." The Hatake replied simply.

 _"_ _Come on…Make it quick, Danzo."_

Danzo smiled and stopped in front of him with a long, deep sigh of triumph which he could not supress anymore. "You have done a wonderful job as a leader so far, as we have been following your every action."

"Thank you." Kakashi bowed.

"I believe that by now you have finished reading the Court Rules and the Hon no Koutei[ii]."

The nature of the conversation was thus unveiled. "Well…Yes…" Upon the mention of the book, the samurai grew indignant. Before any words were uttered and before voice of this vile elder came to his hears, he knew well what he had to answer. "I already have a son."

"You are negotiating with a very sensitive matter, young Hatake."

"Konoha will not care-…"

"Are you trying to say that the kingdom over which you wish to rule will not deserve heirs? Shall I truly tell Lord Mifune that you do not love this place with your whole heart? What would your father say, Kakashi?"

Slight confusion plastered over the samurai but he did not let it become visible. As far as he was aware, it was nobody's business, least his grandfather's. Of course, Lord Danzo shared some sort of unknown friendship with Lord Mifune, however, the mere mention of him sent shivers down his spine. What all this had to do with becoming king? "I won't rule for long…Just until…Just until-…"

"Just until what? So our whole agreement was a lie on your side? We all thought you were taking this seriously!"

"It's…" Kakashi clenched his hands in fists to expel anger from his soul. "I don't need a queen. I don't wish to marry anyone." " _Anyone else…"_ He added in his mind with quiet resignation.

"This is your duty, my friend. You are a man; it won't hurt to please a wench!" Danzo laughed whilst Kakashi shuddered as the lord grew colloquial. "Besides, you may have as many as you require. Certain thirsts are hard to quench."

"All right…" Here, he believed the fastest and easiest way to end a conversation which was rapidly becoming uncomfortable, would be to simply agree and later find a solution. At least, if there was someone to wed, he would have one in mind.

After seeing Asuma, he could ask her again, properly this time. Mere offers were visibly a fatal mistake. Yes, he would gather his courage and do so, speak the content of his heart he has long been coveting to empty.

She was the dream in his delirious nights, the opiate in the drugged brain, the nepenthe that lingered on his lips. He will ask her. He will tell her what he couldn't before; _that he madly loved her_. "I will-…"

"You will marry the heiress of Kirigakure."

"I will what? What? No way!"

"The elders dared discuss this before you, knowing you were busy with the rebuilding of the village. Lord Mifune was beyond happy."

"No. I will not. I don't know her and am less interested in her than in a pig. My grandfather has…He has nothing to do with this business. Unless…"

"Watch your mouth, young Hatake." Upon uttering those mystical sounds, the elder's face was masked with an almost fearsome combination of triumph and seriousness. He was decided. "In order to ensure this village to strive, you will need proper bonds with other nations. Konoha, Kirigakure and Tetsu no Kuni will join forces and will easily overpower anyone who wishes to stand in our way. If you keep insisting like a child, we find someone else to fulfil the duties of a king, however I highly doubt that would make your 'friends' happy."

"Tetsu no Kuni[iii]…?" Indubitably, his grandfather was hardly a lovable man, and many stories were told of his almost inhuman vindictiveness and tenacious memory for wrongs real or fancied. He would never negotiate and this word was doubtful to exist in his vocabulary.

Nonetheless, Kakashi cradled deep respect and trust in the old samurai and alleged that all his beliefs were based on the love of his family. Even when he appeared cruel and punished those innocent of crimes, he sided with him and remained quiet when he thundered about ruining Konoha. And by degrees, he saw at last a fearful truth which no one had ever dared to breathe before; the unwhisperable secret of secrets.

After a long look in front of him, he took a deep breath and spoke; "so you have known it from the start... The reason why I accepted to be king."

"Do you take me for a fool, Kakashi?" Lord Danzo replied haughtily and opened his arms wide as if to welcome the truth with fervour. "You thought you would outsmart us, don't you?"

Again he breathed hard, but not so much from the shrilly ringing words themselves as from the possibilities his imagination terrifiedly conjured up. "No…I won't let you ruin this place by your own mad ideas. I can't believe you and Ojiisan made a deal to merge Konoha with Tetsu…"

"This is not madness, boy. You yet to understand how glorious this place will become once its changed. Although, you are right about something. You are a puppet in our hands and your grandfather has never regarded you more than that. You will fulfil what that brat Sakumo couldn't and join this place to the Land of Iron, so we can bring Madara down and rule all over the world." Danzo pointed out with much acuteness.

Beneath the pressure of mental torments such as these, the feeble remnant of the good within the samurai succumbed. Evil thoughts spread in his mind, images of those to be lost in wars, intimate whispers of the past now gaining sense; the darkest and most evil of thoughts. The control of his usual temper increased to passionate hatred of all things around him, especially those filthy liars. Kakashi's gift to recognize the hidden sense in the darkest of cloud seemed to become but a curse. Sweet innocence! Beautiful ignorance!

How long has it been? How long has this plan been made? Did they know how the events would unfold before he could realize it so? How long has he been lied to? He didn't want to know the answers, for deep down he has already possessed the key to all doors. The young warrior's heart swelled up with fury and his hand bloomed in blue spasms of electricity.

"If I were you I would reconsider using that Chidori."

"If I kill you, it's over." He snarled the phrase under his breath in an absolute frenzy of wrath he turned at once upon him who had thus betrayed him and seized him violently by the collar.

The blue flames of Chidori raged near the elder's face as blue, searing thunder but the response was a wicked smile that rushed across Danzo's visage when he opened his dry mouth for a cold reply.

"What will you do from a cell, with chains around your neck? Your only weakness is your loyalty, Kakashi; for this land and its people. You wouldn't leave your son alone, would you? Or your friends? And the Senju whore? Although we all wonder what is so compelling about her that even the Uchiha king cannot resist her charms. I presume you could share some secrets with us?" Upon that remark, Danzo wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue, merely to fuel the man in front of him with such disturbing gestures.

"You son of a bitch!" He said in a voice husky with rage while every syllable he uttered seemed as new fuel to his fury. "You son of a bitch! I kill all of you! Every damn liar in this damn place!"

In that instant, Kakashi's Chidori impaled the Official with brute ferocity, repeatedly through and through the lungs. He would have to kill Lord Mifune too. He would have to kill everyone. Over and over was the elder impaled, until for a brief moment, the samurai averted his eyes at the wild lightning bolts that began to dance at the window. The body was dropped on the floor and the silver-crowned warrior rushed to lock the doors.

It was one of those terrific nights which are only met with once or twice during a century. It rained fiercely, and the chamber tottered to its centre with the floods of wind, that rushing through the crannies in the wall and pouring impetuously down the chimney, howled awfully outside.

"You underestimate your grandfather's power, boy."

Kakashi's blood curdled in his veins when he heard Danzo's voice in the chilly atmosphere. Slowly he turned, only to face the wicked Official wholly alive.

"No…No."

The samurai struggled no more, but the agony of his soul found vent in one loud, long, and final laugh of pain. He felt like a clown, or like a brainless puppet pulled on strings he has never once perceived to possess and now upon their notice, there were thousands of invisible chains making him immobile. He fell on his knees and grabbed at his stomach when laughing became gradually harmful. He couldn't stop, however, for he has become truly the subject of ridicule. A perfectly fooled fool.

Lord Danzo barked things in his throat and before the white-haired samurai could realize, he was thrown onto the streets, grovelling on the putrid ground. The future king of Konoha was nothing but a dog; an idiot, a bastard with no proper significance whatever.

 ** _A few hours later…_**

"Dragging me here, in the middle of the night…If this was for nothing, I will bite Ichiraku-sama's head off." Tsunade fumed under her soft breath and tightened the cloak around her frame. To her fortune, the rain had ceased but the wind was from the East all night, and gave them the brightest omen. They suffered no little from cold and the dampness of the atmosphere was most unpleasant.

"I like you better, love." Asuma smirked when an elbow landed in his ribcage. He winked under his long black eyelashes to the woman on his other side so peppered with traces of childish jealousy, which the Shinigami did enjoy beyond doubt. "Come on, she is more entertaining, threatening anyone she meets."

"It took us double the time to rebuild the hospital and train nurses because she kept losing her temper. She is /the/ threat, Asuma." Hisana murmured in hope to be unheard by the blonde. "I seriously liked her better when she was all well-mannered and quiet."

"She was never quiet." The Sarutobi chuckled as they followed the steps of the heiress through the paved streets of Konoha. "I have missed a lot, haven't I?" He sighed into the air while he glanced upwards at the vast raven sky.

"You did…" Hisana nodded with a voice grown weak. "Things have changed…I wonder if Kakashi has been doing all right…"

"Kakashi?" Presently and without warning, Tsunade stopped when Ichiraku's frame came into her sight.

The old man was gesturing heavily downwards with worry upon his visage and blood besprinkling his whole attirement.

The dragoness grew rapidly sick at the vivid perfume of life that still oozed languidly from the invalid. The scent was familiar and unique, like a fingerprint; it was the one and only, inimitable. "Kakashi!" Tsunade rushed with the best of her abilities and the two other samurai followed right after her, the concern within their eyes was discernible.

"Kakashi…What'd happened to him?" Flames of fury ornated the woman's frame and her bosom heaved, her knees tottered, and her whole spirit became possessed with an intolerable horror. Gasping for breath, she fell beside her lover. "Who did this? WHO DID IT?"

 _"_ _Forty seven days ago he was fine. He seemed just fine…Forty seven days ago…I clearly remembered what he asked from me…The deal…I even agreed to it. Hisana…Hisana told me two weeks ago too, she told me he was happy. He looks horrible now. I can't look at you. I can't…It breaks my heart."_

As her thoughts slowly consumed her, her fright turned to steely despair which left room for a resurgence of her rage against him. She shook him to bring him to alertness but response there was nothing profitable. Instead, Kakashi's mouth opened and a reek of infinite sake welled out to meet the spectators.

"L-Lady Tsunade…" Ichiraku stuttered but resumed; "I found Kakashi-sama not long ago. He got extremely mesmerized by alcohol…"

"I can't believe this…" Asuma muttered and shook his head in grave disappointment.

Hisana noticed the pain on the warrior's face and she took his hand to hers. "What?"

"He got drunk…Without me. Bastard."

"Who hurt him?" Tsunade asked as she ignored the other two behind her. The wounds upon the samurai's body must have been the fruit of unwholesome affairs which he most certainly lost. She gazed, while her brain reeled with a multitude of incoherent thoughts. Nothing made sense.

"I don't know, Lady Tsunade. The last time I heard him he was threatening to burn this village down. Kakashi-sama was provoking many, Lady Tsunade."

"It makes no sense…He loves this place." She stated on a haggard voice and a creeping shudder. The scene was yet incomprehensible. She would have bet her own head that Kakashi always cherished Konoha. What drove him to this kind of vortex of folly into which he was so eager to plunge?

Asuma stepped forward at once grabbed his comrade, to put him over his own shoulder. "Can we lay him down inside?"

"Of course…I was unsure whether it would be wise to move him…" Ichiraku reasoned and showed the way to the brothel Asuma was so eager to discover.

Changes have been made indeed and more crimson smoke and thick fog of incense awoke the eyes of sensuality. In each chamber and halls the sake flowed freely and there were not other and perhaps more dangerous seductions to covet. The pandemonium of the earth had passed when the sojourners' extravagance was at its height. Madly flushed with women and intoxication, they staggered naked in the narrow hallways, their attention diverted at the small group of vested warriors carrying a man.

The unexpected interruption of people rushed amidst the four walls of the first vacated chamber and shut the doors tight together. Kakashi was thus dropped upon the warmest sheets of the hostel of luscious entertainment. In this low and small room there hung no lamp; and now no light at all was admitted, save that of the exceedingly feeble moon's which made its way through the window. Tsunade sat beside him in a cloud of speculation and her soft hands sent healing energy through the wounded skin of the unconscious.

The blood began to dry and the ragged flesh had only but invisible scars to revive the mysteries of the night. Steady breaths filled the man's ribcage and his eyelids trembled while the faint senses returned.

"Kakashi…"

"Huh…" Kakashi muttered with a brain still under the sake's influence. "This smell…I am in a brothel…" It was dubitable whether he could only whisper syllables, or some simple, familiar key sounds, as the samurai appeared excessively intoxicated..

"Yes…We found you-…" Tsunade began with her sweet voice softened. Her slim fingers redid the knot around his torn uniform to vest him back up as much as it was possible so.

In the tremulous shake of her uplifted fingers, Kakashi placed his hands over her own and rose to a sitting position. "Damn, you are one fine woman… You-you here to please me, hmm?"

The heiress pulled her hands away at his audacity. "It's me, Tsuna. Can you even see properly?" The faint light enabled her to perceive him but the features of his face she could not well distinguish. She had but only faith that he had saved some portion of his senses and thus would be able to talk.

"Tsunade…Argh you. Da-damn Sen…-ju. You crippled my life. You ruined me." Kakashi's sudden, embittered laughter filled the numb atmosphere as he shot his alcohol-excited gaze at the aghast woman in front of him.

"How can you say that, brother?" Over the young Hatake's face rushed blood of fury and warm skin reddened with the fiery feeling. "Don't listen to him." She warned Tsunade, although her efforts deemed vain.

"You know nothing, Hisa-cha-cha-chan. She… is the reason of every sh-shit. She is my panda-… pande-…monium…" Upon that cruel note, the samurai seized the blonde by the arm with a gesture of petulant impatience and whispered the words; "I…I will marry someone else, Senju." in her hear.

He grew almost sober in that instant, when the firm slap of the young woman halted him at speaking. The deplorable heiress rose from his grasp and staggered against the wall with eyes glowing in tormenting wrath.

"They want me to make an heir. Kill them off… the plan. I went…I went into this shit, over you. I should have seen it. I should have…Seen it. You are, you Senju, are…Are a curse." Kakashi continued and he too stood on his feet, albeit unstable.

"What has gotten into you, brother?" Hisana could barely believe her eyes let alone the poisonous words her brother was spitting. She has never seen him so out of control; if there was anyone in the family always collected, it was him. Kakashi could remain cold and composed even in the most torturous hell; to see him lose his faith and sanity must had a reason beyond imaginable.

Vindictive accusations and agonizing thorns from the innermost chambers of the spirit surged to the surface and all of them stood rooted in place, in wild disbelief of the scene's validity.

"I was blind because of the Senju. You!" He took a step closer, but the strong sensation of vomit halted him. "You blinded me. You refused me. Always refused...They will kill her. We meet the sane…the same end, probably. We are all puppets. I should have seen it."

"What are you talking about?" Tsunade barely raised her voice, only to muffle the sound of her flowing tears. The crystalline drops wetted the soft velvet of her face and she hurried to wipe them off before he noticed.

Excited by pain, his passionate temperament broke forth with redoubled ardour, "Stop being so loud, I get deaf! I regret you! For Yomi's sake, I regret you! I'm in this shit, because of you!" He spurned even the common restraints of decency in the mad infatuation of his revels, giving name to a multitude of follies and adding no brief appendix to the long catalogue of heartaches.

"Get out of my life, Senju. Get out!" He continued, for the marvellous sight whom he so keenly loved seduced him into angry words he did not truly mean, though partially may have believed.

For some time, his countenance had been losing the florid tinge lent by the sake, but now it had grown to a pallor truly fearful. "You made me love you so much I did all this nonsense for you. Where did it lead me? I got nothing, you fucking monster!"

The pitiable condition of both the blonde and the drunk had thrown an air of embarrassed gloom over all and for some moments, a profound silence was maintained, during which Kakashi could not help feelings his cheeks tingle with the many burning glances of scorn cast upon him by the infuriated group of comrades.

An intolerable weight of anxiety settled on his bosom when at length, he beheld the accused of every misfortune. "You…You are different." First time during the night his complaints deemed true; the Japanese rice wine slowly dissolved in the blood and his senses perceived more of reality. "You look…"

She looked…The maquillage once minutely made was almost wholly imperceptible for bare human eyes. Only remnants of the rosy blush on her ivory skin and a tint of the wild crimson rouge could be distinguished. Might she have wished to go out tonight and have after forty seven days some gleeful moment? Or could have been him, the very reason she spent so much time in front of a mirror, to assure herself she was presentable and fancied in his eyes?

The dress around her frame flowed majestically onto the ground and the cloak which she wore was of a rare description of costly. The façade hid well the immense fatigue the body suffered and least could she hide that from the samurai. Tsunade's small hands were tremulous; her whole demeanour quivered in a legion of suffocating feelings.

Kakashi approached her with one single step solely to confirm what he presumed to be seeing. Delirium as this could not source from his wretched mind. Upon his action, the woman backed against the wall and unconscious were her actions when she placed both of her pale hands over the lovingly round womb in order to protect her unborn from him, from danger.

" _I slept with you… Just a couple of times. It can't… It can't be. I barely even remembered the first…"_

Kakashi at first laughed as a sign of nervous denial to the unvoiced accusations. He was not the father of that…child.

For a while, he had even believed Shuya was not his own blood either, for it took tremendous amount of effort to convince the mother to conceive a child, only later to find out she had kept someone else's bed warm.

Men around his lover were plenty as the cold raindrops on a coat. It could not be. They never promised faithfulness to each other, after all. She could have chosen anyone else, whilst they were apart. "Was it Madara? Or Dan-sama? A third, perhaps? Jiraiya?" While he spoke, so profound was the stillness that one might have heard a pin drop upon the floor.

Abased and humbled to the dust as then the heiress was, she somehow retained some presence of mind and without a word, she fled in perfect agony of bitterness and shame. Asuma followed her, with eyes once stark black and now dull with disappointment.

The maddening influence upon Kakashi's brain loosened and gradually he began to feel burning anxiety in his throat. He began to murmur, to hesitate, to resist. And was it only stubbornness, which induced him to believe, with the increase of his own firmness that the truth was not what he deep down already sensed?

Stunned, he at length proceeded with the inevitable question as much as his poor voice permitted. "How long…?"

"It's been five months." Hisana replied without emotion evinced.

"Five months…Hashirama died five months ago… Ah…"

If there was anything competent to voice, most certainly he did not find them so. With frowns darkening his features, a deep sigh of bitter regret escaped his lungs and with that very effort of inner struggle, Kakashi fell on his knees and hid the wrinkles of shame in the veil of his palms.

"Sleep this off. You have a horrible smell and you cannot even speak coherently." Hisana spoke on a softened tone and crouched beside him. She took a soft blanket and wrapped it over her brother's shoulders. He was cold as a carcass.

After some quiet moment, he began; "I need to talk to her."

"It can wait until sunrise." Hisana replied warmly. The older Hatake was slowly losing strength, and she didn't wish to see him hurt himself again. Everyone was filled with questions, but to suppress it for now was imperious.

She knew he wouldn't last long; Kakashi barely ever drank, let alone allowing the sweet sake to consume him. She did not blame him, however. "Come on…Lie down. The sun is almost up. We can figure this out in a few hours, okay?"

"No…No." Kakashi insisted, albeit with fury spent, strength was leaving him too. "We never talk. We never…I have to talk to her…I called her a monster."

"In a few hours, okay? Listen to me," Hisana began and placed his cheeks between her warm palms. "listen, Kakashi."

"Hisa…" Kakashi shot his gaze on the ground while his sister resumed in speaking.

"Lie down. Close your eyes. She is probably sleeping already. Tsunade doesn't stay up late anymore, so do the same all right? Time will pass faster that way."

"Sure…" The white-crowned warrior whispered with a voice barely audible. Slowly he laid his head upon the pillow when the sudden kiss of dizziness drew his mind to immobility. For a brief moment his lids closed themselves and brought complete blankness to the thunderous soul. He sighed.

After a while, she said; "Kakashi…" Hisana paused here for a reaction, but no answer could be perceived in the dim light of dawn. "Oyasumi, oniisan[iv]…"

* * *

[1] Japanese traditional lantern for homes or gardens. They are placed on the ground, not hung.

[2] Royal election

* * *

[i] medical ninjutsu

[ii] Book of rules for the King

[iii] Land of Iron

[iv] "Good night, older brother."


	19. Curses

**_Active Evil is better than Passive Good. -William Blake_**

* * *

 _It was amidst the peaks of ancient, immemorial peaks where the gibbous moon resided, and casted its hideously cold light over the horizon that the wanderer's feet first touched the rigid ground. There was not so far the eyes could reach when the grey fog descended on him. The smoke did not come from the clouds but was the raging flames around the city that lay endlessly in front of him. Hideous screams danced in the ember of the pandemonium and more hideous was the stench of the burning flesh that emanated amidst the sharp strokes of fire. The raven crowned wanderer stood rooted in awe, and for a brief eclipse of sanity, he watched and pondered so keenly at the blasphemous scene in front of him._

 _Controlling his muscles, and realising afresh how plainly visible he was, he began his way towards the city. The city, the great, the old, the terrible city of unnumbered crimes. As he approached, the evil King saw hooded forms amidst ruins, and pale evil faces peering from behind fallen monuments. And he saw that small world battling against death; against the smokes of destruction from unknown sources; whirling, churning; struggling around the pitying cold moon._

 _The sparks of fire played amazingly around the heads of a few survivors, and hair stood up on end whilst shadows more grotesque than the wanderer could tell came out and squatted on the heads. And when he, who was colder and more logical than the rest, felt wild shivers on his spine, as in front of his own two eyes rose the true reason of all pandemonium._

 _The paralyzing truth inspired him to mumble a trembling protest about who drove them all out, down the dizzy streets into the damp, hot, deserted midnight. He screamed aloud that he was not afraid; that he never could be afraid; and others screamed with him for solace. They swore to one another that the city was exactly the same, and still alive and prosperous as once it was changed to be, and when the lights of life began to fade, they cursed their doom over and over again, and laughed at the queer faces they made, and silence fell over._

Madara was awakened suddenly and in alarm. For some time he could not tell whether he was awaking or sleeping, for the sound of screams still rang shrilly in his ears.

"Is everything all right, my Lord?" Orochimaru's soft voice sneaked into the lord's ears like the tunes of fairies' flute.

Apparently, the raven crowned shinobi was in a bad mood today; his whole demeanour induced some kind of subtle aggression within anyone that came near to his aura. Not long did the Serpent stand at the parted doors when he was beckoned to go in.

"I had a vision…" Stated the lord coldly and did not rivet his gaze at the gold tray placed so carefully at his bedside table. "We must kill the Senju now."

Upon first hearing of the unexpected, Orochimaru furrowed his thin eyebrows, for beyond reason could he imagine what had gotten into the man to change the wisely chosen steps in such a rush. "But master….We had an agreement with the heiress." He reasoned and stopped in front of him.

"I don't give a shit about that deal. She will destroy everything!" Madara's trepidation now grew visible over his dark features as he gestured so passionately, still in his bed. "My kingdom… Don't you understand? I said I had a vision. It was clear as the sun. I don't know how, but I am going to lose. That fucking prophecy is utter bullshit!"

Orochimaru choked a laugh once the dark lord reasoned with some dream he called 'vision'. His visions proved accurate as a dead man's belief in eternal life. It appeared, to convince someone so moody would require more effort than he had originally deemed it so. With a second required, the Serpent softened his grim voice and inquired further: "What makes you so certain that it wasn't simply a dream based on your deepest fear?"

Right upon uttering those words that indeed made much sense, he felt how wrong he was for dare asking it at all.

Madara's black irises dilated in sheer anger at the blasphemous accusation and with that very same ferocity that overwhelmed him, he threw the tray at the snake. "Are you saying that I am afraid of that blonde wench?"

"I am not implying anything, my Lord." Orochimaru replied as he gathered the broken china on the floor. It was becoming difficult to stay true to his role.

"How many days are there of that damn agreement?" At length, he got out of the bed and wrapped a velvet robe around his frame.

"About a fortnight, my Lord."

"Hm…." Madara pondered whilst he investigated his fatigued visage in a mirror.

Orochimaru then continued; "If you insist on breaking the agreement, I advise you to surprise her a night before it. That is when she is least prepared. People are always less alert when there is a date one must keep in mind."

At first, Madara simply scoffed as if the servant had merely mumbled nonsense, but upon a second thought, he turned his gaze at the other. "So, what are you saying?"

"You should finish her off in two weeks." As Orochimaru spoke, his now stiffened features softened, such an unconscious behaviour not even the snake could predict. It was an ever so light of a reaction from someone so gravely concerned in a matter.

It was also something that piqued the lord's interest and most importantly, his suspicion. "I should do that then…" He replied and forced a tone overly natural for a kind of man he was.

Now, for both it was a matter of counterfeit to succeed in persuading one another about words untrue. It was also the moment of grave realisation that those they deemed the most reliable yielded to be the true hypocrits of all. Especially for the lord, who had equipped the snake with such characteristics now wholly fictitious, was the moment a true failure and failures he did not handle well.

Meanwhile Orochimaru resumed in his same natural tone. "Yes…Yes my Lord! You should wait. Just two weeks." He added the last words with a smile, such an erroneous act making the lord's blood boil.

 _What are you up to, Serpent? Just what is it? I can see it in your soul. Its light is pouring through your eyes. Shouldn't you be more cautious? How long….How long have you been playing this?_

"All right. I will wait." Said Madara with a deep sigh, not too convincing for ears of a liar's.

"All right, my Lord." Lied back Orochimaru.

It was that point, when in both mistrust planted its seed, but pretended to be ignoramuses of it.

"Is there anything else I may do for you?"

"Bring me a new tray. I am getting hungry. And talk to the maids, I have some special requests." Replied the Uchiha coolly.

Orochimaru nodded without a word and exited the chamber, which was exactly what Madara needed; the Lord himself too rushed from the room and headed to another he barely ever recalled visiting, for he would not let this end like this.

The Serpent's room, one of only two in the steeply pitched garret, was on the west side of the hideous castle, toward the high wall that formed the upper end of the street. Its size was very great, and seemed the greater because of its extraordinary bareness and neglect. Of furniture there was only a narrow iron bedstead, a dingy washstand, a small table, a large bookcase, an iron music-rack, and three old-fashioned chairs. Sheets of ancient scrolls written in unknown languages were piled in disorder about the floor.

The walls were of bare boards, and had probably never known plaster; whilst the abundance of dust and cobwebs made the place seem more deserted than inhabited. "Disgusting." Uttered the lord as he threw some books open that lay so closely around his feet. "Where is it..." The great disorder of things upset him, for he knew he was quite short on time. He wouldn't trust the Serpent anymore, no.

There was something about that squamous creature, something that inspired angst in others, and only now he sensed such aura. Madara was swift to turn everything over as he sought, sought for something he did not himself knew exactly, but a piece of paper could it be, to change the course of things, to predict or to reveal something still so minutely hidden from his eyes.

His hands lingered over shelves and books, over surfaces old and time-worn, when by mere accident he arrived at a wall that by touch was opened into a place wholly mysterious.

In this realm beyond the wall, there was a yellowed papyrus filled with the knowledge of dream-sages who dwelt of old in the unknown Time, and who were too wise ever to be born in the waking word; they were the undead and unalive parts of the gods, the shapeless ghosts of truth.

Therein, were written many things concerning the waking world, but those furtive predictions could only be perceived by those of pure evil. Thus, the mad Uchiha croaked hellish words into the cold air and the yellowed papyrus appeared upon the pale palms of the monster.

His deeply slanted eyes arduously flitted over the unearthly characters upon the paper and previsions of the most clouded kind fuelled his enthusiasm with vexation. A he read, he knew not what to believe, yet longed more and more to cross deeper into the unknown future; for doubt and secrecy are the lure of lures, and no new horror can be more terrible than the daily torture of the familiar. Some of the dream-sages wrote gorgeously, but what they wrote has become more confusing the firmer he focused his attention. To depict the dimness, therefore he read long in the yellowed papyrus and forgot about the world that waited for him.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

In the early morning, two eyes gazed in fascination at the orange sun as it crept above the hills and two arms stretched out as if in the performance of some odd rite whose nature did not the man himself comprehended.

But save for his strange fancies, Lord Danzo was in every way suggestive of nobility. Unlike certain men in the Palace, he was not ignorant or dirty and was at home amongst the other blue-blood generals, having arrived from the very highest sort of surrounding.

However, not many knew that he had been found as a child in a crude valley's cave, and having been the sole survivor of an unholy rite. Near the cave, close to a rather unusual rock had lain two skeletons newly picked by fat vultures and presumably forming the remains of his parents. No one could investigate their identity and as time wore along, they were soon forgotten by everyone, _except him_.

The old man lifted himself on his feet by the aid of his cane and glanced once more at the warming rays of the sun, such a scene that alluded him with sensation of a sweet day's upcoming. The event which soon followed was thus unheralded by long premonitions; everything appeared just as he would imagine.

As he dressed himself, he pondered deeply and made many plans for the day. It was in good humour as he left his chamber and felt the first cold touch of the breeze; a storm may be gathering around the peaks of the hill and as he looked up at the sky came to his notice weirdly shaped clouds that scudded horribly across the sun's glorious light which attempted to shine through the many layers of vapours. His smile was rapidly fading into a frown and he turned his gaze away from nature and headed to his office.

Not long did he stay in the vile-smelling room, when one of his servants entered in a rush. "Lord Danzo!" He gasped as he had rushed frantically to meet him.

"Yes, Uryu?" Danzo did nothing but lifted an eyebrow as he awaited his response. Uryu's blue eyes, though a trifle bloodshot, seemed inexplicably keen and burning, which sickened the Lord's deepest pits of soul.

The young _informateur_ took a deep breath and apologised for his rude entry into his office, and continued. "Thi-This morning, I-I was walking down the pond, to get the scrolls you asked, my Lord…"

"And?"

"I saw…I didn't believe…I think I saw something very bad. I mean.."

"Be more clear, for Izanami's sake!" Danzo's shrivelled face was applied with vivid red as he ordered now becoming furiously anxious.

"The heiress, Lord Danzo…" Uryu breathed and looked at the man in front of him. "I think she is with child."

"What? What did you say?" For a moment he seemed not to wholly comprehend the words just pronounced. Of course, there have been some rumours around the Palace lately, but all seemed mere scandal of those consumed by boredom.

"I said…"

"I understood what you said." For a moment he seated himself in his oak chair that was adored with gold and took one deep breath to seize control over his own mind. "Are you certain, Uryu?"

"Yes, Lord Danzo." The young one nodded in the affirmative.

"Is there anyone…Well, how would you know…" Danzo was now thinking loudly, but merely half sentences left through his mouth.

"She is a threat isn't she?"

"Yes. A bigger one than I first believed her to be." The elder confirmed the messenger's fear and on a calm tone he resumed. "We must get rid of her. Somehow. We cannot kill her yet. This is something we did not consider. Dammit."

"Wha-what if…" Uryu began to speak but then quickly noticed he had no word in the decision-making of the elder. He was a small agent on the map of thousand connections. Nonetheless, he was not a dumb one and several times deemed useful in the chess-like game.

"What if what, child?" He listened with his attention aroused.

The man felt a certain hesitancy in speaking of it; but curiosity overmastered all the vague fears which had steadily accumulated since he stepped into the chamber. "If she should be locked away, without actually being locked away….As if…"

"As if it appeared to the world that no circumstances were changed, it is by her own free will that she is unseen?"

"Yes."

A smile began to light up the man's shrivelled visage. "It is possible." As Danzo mumbled, a shocking ecstasy came over the expression on his face, but his voice sank rather than mounted.

Uryu's sensations could scarcely be recorded. All the terror he had dimly felt before rushed upon him vividly, and he knew why everyone loathed the old man so near him with an infinite intensity. His madness, or at least his partial perversion was beyond dispute. "There is a way…A long forgotten method…I still remember. I always remembered." His words sank into a whisper and the messenger now trembled with anxiety.

"I will leave you to it, Lord Danzo…" Muttered the servant and vanished in a blink of an eye.

Danzo could still hear the tremulous bones within Uryu's cage of skin as he rushed with all his might away from the abhorrence that was circling in the mind. A malign smile plastered over his face and he betook at length towards the Royal Garden.

The pale sun moved across the heavens and the eerie clouds faded into a large grey smoke over the mountain tops. Droplets of rain could be felt time to time but no visible sign predicted the arrival of a thunderous metamorphose of the sky.

The dwelling in which the heiress resided was very deep in the garden of the Palace, and undoubtedly far from the Palace's main Halls overlooking the vast kingdom. That it had been the goal of the ancients, no one could doubt, though why, no one could tell.

Tsunade's chambers were in close reach and each step upon the mild green grass enflamed thoughts of the most menacing kind. Past and present mingled in the mad lord's brain like lovers mingled on a vast dancefloor. She was still in her pale pink silken robe, when the man stormed in, uninvited and eyes burning with passionate curiosity. "So it is true…" was all he said as he stopped but a mere meter away from the woman.

Tsunade, in that brusque moment of bulging in dropped the small hairbrush from her hand. She had but the slightest of idea of the reason of Danzo's presense, least did she comprehend the wicked smile that presented itself on his face. Unnerved, she tightened the robe around her frame and enquired; "How dare, Lord Danzo?"

Surprisingly, the elder did not react, but rather stood so bewitched it vexed the dragoness.

"Get out!" Thus she ordered, but the man didn't move.

Seemingly so, Lord Danzo was now wholly mesmerized by the truth. At length, he slowly uttered these words; his voice unearthly calm. "You have kept it in a secret for too long…You impress me. I didn't except you to be so cautious.. Well, as cautious as you can be, after such accident."

"Leave now, Lord Danzo. I have no business with you." was what Tsunade replied, albeit it did not succeed in reaching the man's ears.

"Don't you?" He asked back and lifted an eyebrow as if she was talking with feverish nonsense.

"You want Kakashi, talk to him."

Danzo sensed in the aura that she was not as collected as she usually was, most certainly his unannounced presence caught her off guard. He felt like a hunter besetting his prey. "This is merely the beginning of a new set of actions. All those calculations from before...This has completely overwritten it all. Things must change. Things must...They must take a new turn." This was said in a low, fluctuating tone, and with every sign of the most profound intimidation. With that very action he walked even closer, and the air he inhaled became sweetened with the scent of her perfume. Or was it her natural musk? He couldn't tell.

Being thus evidently spoken to, for a brief moment she was at a loss how to reply, as she could in no manner understand why were these things said. "Whatever you have planned,...it will eventually rot away, just like your corpse."

Danzo sneered at the boldness of the woma. "Such you will not live to see, dear. Because you forget that I have one thing that puts me above all of you. _I remember everything_." His words at first did not sound so clear to the heiress, nonetheless it was with growing and incomprehensible fear she listened to him.

Not even herself could grasp then what made her truly afraid, what induced such a powerful sensation in the deepest pits of her ribcage. She tried to reason with herself about an escape, something to which was no possible way, and seconds that so swiftly passed were not in her favour; thus she awaited for her doom in awe and silence.

And upon that very moment, she heard the hellish chant of the man but could not shout, she perceived the dark, ghoulish face and the long, grotesquely unhooked jaw, from which unearthly sounds poured in miasmal effusion, but she could protest. The chamber burned in pestilential effulgence which not even the dragon's eyes could bear. Indeed, he _did remember everything._

 ** _A few hours later..._**

"It's not it..." Kakashi replied with a sigh. "We don't talk anymore, the way we used to. In fact, there is no communication between us. She avoids me like the plague." Before he could have sighed again, the sake glass in his hand was now refilled. He breathed with perfect freedom and ease at the strong yet inviting scent of alcohol, and indeed why should he not? He was also agreeably surprised to find himself, in a great measure, relieved from the violent mental pains which had hitherto tormented him. A slight headache, accompanied with a sensation of fullness took over his affliction and he smiled with content at the empty glass. "Well, what can be done about it?"

"Drinking certainly won't get things solved, brother." Hisana hissed at the despicable sight that he was and took the glass out of his hand. "The village senses the smell of war we have among the walls of the Palace. The fact that Konoha is slowly to thrive again, and may be better than ever before doesn't make them believe in us. I hear things on the streets. There is discontent and fear."

"Just what the hell they fear?" Kakashi now, with a mind abused by alcohol scoffed and beckoned to Asuma to get him another glass. "First of all, Madara is not a menace, at least for a while. Second of all, they know hell about Danzo."

"Kakashi, these people are not stupid. Look at yourself!"

Taken aback by such accusations, he lifted his brows and enquired; "nothing is wrong with me, Hisa-chan."

"Man, you do smell a little." Asuma shrugged and handed the sake to him and at length joined the conversation. "Lets all presume Hisa is right. What is there to do? We need to fix Konoha. That is the plan."

Here Kakashi considered all the affairs that now were going on swimmingly and replied to both in a speculative manner. "Roads are fine, there are homes, there is a market, flowers, parks, we built a school and even pulled up a hospital. What else do they need?"

"A leader."

"There is Tsunade for that."

"So where is she?" Hisana folded her arms as the conversation became more bitter.

Horrors of a nature most stern and most appalling would too frequently obtrude themselves upon his mind when such a question called itself into his brain, and shook the innermost depths of his soul with the bare supposition of their possibility.

Yet there and then, he did not suffer his thoughts for any length of time to dwell upon these latter speculations and buried those latent qualms in anger. "The hell I know? You think I didn't try talk to her? You think I haven't been trying to fix things for ever now? Honestly, this is the most I could do. I didn't choose to be Danzo's pet but it is inevitably if we want to keep this quite unstable peace. So what else do you want me to do, sister? Tell me, really."

Here, a moment of silence ensued around their table, only the noise of early drinkers at the bar could catch their attention. Hisana hesitated for a few minutes and at length with a resigning sigh she spoke; "I am sorry."

"Nevermind." Kakashi retorted a little vexed and looked outside. It was a quiet and still afternoon. The streets were profoundly quiet, albeit it was nearly five o'clock in the afternoon. A long series of dense cloud passed over the inky blue sky and the wind was from the east all day. He then asked; "do we have anything for today?"

"I never quite follow what these palacey people want." Asuma shrugged apathetically and poured a glass for himself. "Does Danzo still insist on you marrying that wench?"

"Unfortunately so." Kakashi nodded in the positive and with a frown passing over his face, he resumed. "I will figure that out somehow. There is always another way, and as long as he believes that he is better than us, we have time to catch up. We don't go to a war we haven't won yet."

"It seems like we are alone with this whole saving Konoha thing. The elders had joined forces even before we have planned things out. We are the only ones who haven't lied to each other."

"And we must keep it that way. No matter what happens, we tell it to each other and find a solution. We have no choice but to outsmart Ojiisan and Danzo."

Here, everyone drank on Kakashi's request.

Then, Asuma added on a low, distinctive tone. "And Madara."

"Yes..." Kakashi nodded affirmatively. "And Madara."

It was soon after this, barely five minutes before six, that the Hatakes, as well as the Shinigami heard the upcoming of a thunder that froze the current of blood. "It's time to go home, everyone." Kakashi muttered, like a cat sensing danger he was swift to vanish from the bar. If he stayed, he wouldn't have had time to sober up, and certain actions in that day he still wished to take.

Rapidly, the heaven became livid with the violence of a tempest and the rain began to beat upon the head of the men and the floods of the river around the town seemed to come down. The river was tormented into foam and the water-lilies shrieked within their beds. The ancient forest crumbled before the wind and the thunder rolled and the lightning fell.

 ** _Meanwhile…_**

 _There was a hideous screaming which echoed above even the thunder noises and the dogs' barking after a few weeks of silent nights. Everyone heard it but dared not to say a word._

There seemed to be a change in the woman; an added element of furtiveness in the clouded brain which subtly transformed her from an object to a subject of fear.

Her bent back, grey, lifeless orbs and shrivelled chin were unmistakable, and the shapeless ivory garments were like those he remembered. The expression on her face was one of hideous exhaustion and fatigue. Prominent lines of little veins painted the pale eyelids as she struggled to keep them and observe her visitor. The dry mouth opened as if in vain attempt to utter the brain's thoughts, whilst the brain had left but little connection with the system.

The Lord's usual grim smile faded at the despicable sight of the woman; her once sweet body was now repulsive for male hunger, for it became merely a barely breathing incubator for the child in her womb.

Cautiously, the devil approached the dragon's pitiable shell and c rouched on the ground beside her. _"How long have you been rotting here?"_ Quietly he murmured, rather to himself than to the half-conscious woman. A wicked smile rushed about his slim, insidious face, which could not be perceived in the dim shadows of the room. His well-calculated actions induced him to pull the powerless body comfortably into his arms and to inhale her sweet, faint scent in his nostrils. "What a fortunate turn of events, isn't it, wench?"

Madara spoke on a low, calm voice, with his fingers caressing the hollow cheeks, such a tone ever so unnerving for the ears; Tsunade was trembling with alarm in the suffocating embrace of the monster.

Faint groans escaped through the weak, parted lips that were yet unable to form any syllable. Once more the woman forced her orbs to seek truth upwards and albeit the once gloriously green eyes now shone with feeble grey, flames of passion never once perished from them. She caught the sight of the Mad Uchiha, and beheld the lines of his chin, the strict shape of his lips, and that wild gaze of mesmerisation with which he looked back at her.

The evilly grinning figure watched her with patience residing in his dead black eyes wholly devoid of any pure emotion. It was all but very much a futile attempt to endeavor and nudge herself away, something drawing a wider smile over the Mad Uchiha's face. He bore no trace of expression even when she spat on him and simply said; "It is such a pity what you have become, isn't it, my dear?"

She did not know how long she would last, or how much there was left of sanity. Of her own pitiable condition she could not well judge, for sight of her body seemed always cut off by the blur of perspective.

Her single purpose was now to give all her energy to the life slowly growing inside her and by the moment there was only little left to offer. Gradually, life had become an insistent and almost unendurable cacophony, and there was that constant, terrifying impression of cessation almost trembling on the very brink of audibility.

"Tell me, now…Is it a boy? Or…Is it a girl, perhaps?" The Mad Uchiha decided to indulge himself in a little chat with his prey, before actions of the most repulsive kind had to be taken. Soft fingers brushed past the silky locks of the blonde who lay involuntarily amidst his arms, unable to free herself from him. "They told me I should not come…But I couldn't resist. I needed to see you. I needed to end you, Tsunade. Now I know the truth. You are not the only one who was played.."

Here he halted in speech and with a soft, repulsive touch he kissed the woman's forehead. He wanted her to feel inferior. He longed to prove her worthlessness. "But well…I am not played anymore. Unlike you. How deplorable you are, Tsunade…Think about it… What did you achieve in life? Your father was a liar. The other just a mere moron. You? You parted your sweet legs for a samurai and from his seed bloomed something that won't ever be born. You will perish here, a nameless whore with no good deed ever done."

As the man rambled on, Tsunade felt a nameless panic clutch at her throat.

"Come on now, tell me." Madara urged her, and to unveil his growing vexation, he pulled a golden dagger out of the shapeless robe. "Speak now."

Tsunade exerted herself in doing as she was urged to; there had been soft talking coming past her pink lips, and as she began to utter, her voice had sunk to an inaudible whisper. The Mad Uchiha leaned closer for information of the utmost importance; his face was alight with inhuman exultation. "What did you say?"

She grew nauseous at the foetid odour of his mouth, but spurred by an impulse it was irrelevant to originate she delved her thin, long nails into his eyes and sprung from his embrace. A paralysis of fear stifled all attempts to scream, when the hideous monster seized her by the shoulders, yanking her into the empty space of the chamber. Only after a second did she feel the solidly rising walls and with a quiet groan the woman fell limply on the ground.

Madara's steps creaked ominously as he approached her once again, and now, with less patience did he grab at the back of her neck to force those sweet grey eyes to look at him. "Can you see this dagger? Do you know what am I about to do with it? I am going to open you up, dragon. I will take that child and fill your fucking mouth with it, unless you answer my fucking question!"

She released a strangled cry and lifted her hand upon his own that so tightly held her by the neck. "Both. It's both." She gasped breathless.

"What did you say?"

"Fu-…ta..."

"Futago[1]…Futago…?" Upon uttering those words, Madara awaked into a maelstrom of horror, the horror of all horrors, the unspeakable truth, the unmistakable _vérité_ of the future itself. His throat was aching inexplicably as he hopelessly struggled to revive the blurred recollections of the morning, and how nothing within that yellowed papyrus made sense. The mournful chants of his own perishing rang loudly in his ears and hideous dreams of utter defeat added to his desperation. "No!..There was nothing about two! It is not supposed to be two…!"

The fact was that Madara did not know which child he was supposed to kill; the possibilities of the future had grown too arbitrary, there existed not one sole outcome. He dropped the woman as if dropping a sack of potato and moved away from her mechanically, his spirit mixed with fear and anger. "No, no…No…No." He was wholly unable to fix his mind on rationality. A mood of hideous apprehension had seized him and he seemed to be awaiting the fall of some annihilating blow.

"You see, this is where you interfere with my plans," was all the beast could hear. Another flash of fear could not strike him, for time was not enough for apprehension and in another instant, all matters were reversed; for those murderous claws of the Serpent beside him had locked themselves tightly around Madara's throat, while the wrinkled, pale face was twisted with insane fury. "You shouldn't have read the prophecy. You were so close to get out of this, alive…Well, alive for a little longer."

The mad Uchiha shrieked in utter and unwholesome awe and felt the sharp claws like needles grinding into his neck. In that shrieking, the inmost soul of human fear and agony clawed hopelessly and insanely at the ebony gates of oblivion. "Piece of shit." Orochimaru popped the man's eyes out in red madness as at last he let him behold the mockery of diabolism.

In the early hours of dawn Kakashi was awakened suddenly by the wild, fierce cries of the savage watchdog guarding the gates of the Royal Garden. Deep and terrible, the snarling, half-mad growls and barks continued; always in mounting volume, but with hideously significant pauses. Then there rang out a scream from a wholly different throat, such a scream as roused half the sleepers of Konohagakure and haunted their dreams ever afterward, there shall be no doubt.

Such a scream as could come from no being born of earth, or wholly of earth. Kakashi, upon that very notion of utmost fear overwhelming him hastened into some clothing and rushed across the street and lawn to the gates of the gardens and ordered the men to open it to him. Naturally, and driven by curiosity others were ahead of him and heard the echoes of the scream still shrilling in his ears. _He knew that sound too well._

Within minutes, the samurai was at the heiress' door, accompanied by a dozen of his men and the guard dog's corpse at the entrance. An open window showed black and gaping in the moonlight. What had come had indeed completed its entrance, for the screaming, now fast fading into a mixed low moaning, proceeded unmistakably from within. They all stepped so carefully over.

"Wait for me outside." Some instinct warned Kakashi that what was taking place was not a thing for unfortified eyes to see, so he brushed back the crowd of samurai with authority as he unlocked the door and vanished in the blackness of the little chamber.

Among the others he saw Asuma and Hisana, friends and relatives to whom he had told some of his conjectures and fears; and these two he motioned to accompany him inside.

The inward sounds, except for a watchful, languid whine from the sole survivor, had by this time quite subsided but Kakashi now perceived with a sudden start droning growls coming from the farthest recess of the room; the last breaths of a dying man. The building was full of a frightful stench, which the samurai knew too well.

For a second, nobody dared to turn on the light, and then Kakashi summoned up his courage and snapped the switch. One of the three, it is not certain which, shrieked aloud at what sprawled before them among disordered tables and overturned chairs. Asuma would never admit himself that he wholly lost consciousness for an instant, though he did not stumble or fall.

The thing that lay half-bent on its side in a foetid pool of blackish-crimson ichor and tarry stickiness had torn off all the clothing and some of the skin. It was almost dead, but twitched silently and spasmodically while its chest heaved in monstrous unison with the mad piping of the hearts inside. Bits of shoe leather and fragments of apparel were scattered about the room, and just inside the window an empty canvas sack lay where it had evidently been thrown.

"Tell me what happened…" Kakashi asked as he bent toward the frightened woman and carefully placed his hands over her shoulders. "Did you do this, Tsuna?"

Here, the woman faltered, mumbled, and lapsed into a moody and apprehensive silence; glancing nervously over her shoulder and then turning back to stare at the face in front of her. Kakashi gathered up some courage to endeavor and talk to her, but she did not answer, so he knew he would have to soothe the visible torrents in her soul.

Upon a moment of thinking, he pulled his small flask out of his pocket and handed the nepenthe to the invalid, and she drained it to the last drop. It was indeed curious how savagely she downed the drops of tea as if had been days she last drank. She was supposed to be well nourished and taken care of, but nothing would indicate such surmises. She licked the nose of the bottle and slipped it back into his pocket, then began to nod and whisper softly to herself.

Kakashi bent close to catch any articulate words she might utter, whilst he felt Danzo's sardonic smile behind his own back. He arrived at last. He focused his attention on his beloved, who now was really forming words, and he could grasp a fair proportion of them.

"He didn't know…Hell, he was unprepared…It was sudden, I couldn't sense it. I sensed him…The other…"

"Is she telling you what happened? Who is the corpse? Who did she kill?" Danzo inquired but Kakashi was swift to silence him. "Give me some time."

"He came out of the sudden...Blood…It spurted from his eyes like two little waterfalls. He screamed…He ripped his tongue out. I couldn't watch. The blasphemous stench of his freshly ripped meat…"

The woman's whisper grew fainter, and Kakashi found himself shuddering at the terrible and sincere portentousness of her intonation.

"What is she saying?" The elder was growing impatient; the secrecy was taking too long for his fancy.

Tsunade stopped again, but her eyes were almost savage and maniacal now. She reached out for him and leaned his ears to her mouth with astonishing alertness and mumbled out some more obscure phrases. "You have to make a deal with _him_. You must do it… Midnight… At the old town's church."

"All right, that's enough. I will talk to her myself. Let me there." Danzo's last thread of patience snapped when the two leaned so close as to inspire some kind of nervous inquiry in the man behind them.

"You stay right there." Kakashi rose from the ground as he reacted to the elder's request and the other stayed in his shadow, protected from those curious ears. "Was this you, Lord Danzo? Is this your doing?"

"She looks just fine, to me. I would reconsider accusations so harsh." Danzo muttered with raging blood in his veins but softened his visage as the king trembled with a rage even greater he first presumed. "I don't know anything about this. Or even if I do, she is alive, isn't she? This looks like but a little accident." He declared in hurry to conceal his culpability.

Kakashi knew he could not win by force; there were secrets way too hidden and grotesquely furtive for him to predict. The sole thing to do was now to preserve his demeanor. "I request that nobody, except me can enter this part of the Palace from now on. Guards will be installed at the gate." He concluded and took the woman's hand.

Albeit Kakashi was aware of his singular role of soon becoming a king at display, and thus possessing no tangible value but simply to soften the wrinkles on the mad villagers' face and make them believe that peace was in forthcoming, he still had cards to play. Without him, anarchy would mother the people of Konoha and repressed anger father them, and arm them with hoes, axes and mauls. That had to be evited, at all cost.

The elder fumed but word he had not spoken in the matter any further. With an awkwardly reluctant nod, he at last agreed to the terms and first, he lifted his gaze at the invalid beside the samurai, a visage pallid as a ghost's and a body worn out by torment. It was the first time he actualy considered Tsunade beautiful. She was in a state she deserved it to be, completely damaged. "We may speak later, then."

Upon uttering those words, he suddenly seemed to sense the close presence of some terrible part of the passing horror, and to glimpse a hellish advance in the black dominion of an ancient and once passive nightmare. He now turned his attention towards the corpse with a shudder of disgust, as the room still reeked with an unholy and unidentifiable stench. "I will get the carcass for investigation. The servants will clean up the rest."

"All right." Kakashi nodded and waited until the elder exited the room.

All was still. And the moon ceased to totter up its pathway to heaven, and the thunder died away with the last sight of the demon. The red lightning did not flash anymore and the clouds hung thin montionless and the waters sunk to their level and remained. The ancient trees ceased to rock and the water-lilies sighed no more and the murmur was heard no longer from among them,

When all became peaceful, Hisana and Asuma walked beside the couple, with cheeks paler than the moon and curiosity burning with flames higher than a volcano's.

"It's Madara, isn't it?" Asuma enquired albeit his proposition was only rhetorical; his powers allowed him to recognize the dead in any form and kind.

"What?" Hisana, however was still completely shaken by the sight.

Tsunade nodded quietly and a look passed over her visage that was more alarming for its occultness. "He didn't do this. He only came. And the Snake showed up...But... Nothing before that comes to my mind. I cannot recall what happened."

"Since when? Wasn't Madara who did this?" Hisana's curiosity was growing at immeasurable length.

The heiress shook her head in the negative. "I have no memory of today. Only that I woke up. And then Madara was here..."

Kakashi gave a slight squeeze to her hand and spoke on a reserved, severe tone. "You can't do this anymore." He said with a very deep sigh that escaped involuntarily from the bosom of the samurai.

"Do what?" Tsunade looked up at him, whilst a part of her was already in possession of the answer. She wished to caress him, for touch so soft as feather could comfort his thunderous soul, but time was not ripe to be so sincere with actions as this.

"Hiding. There is not a thing we can keep from the elders. And keeping things from each other is worse. We need to stick together, Tsunade. I should have been clearer with you from the start. For that, I apologize."

"Kakashi..." Her fell upon the countenance of the man, and his countenance was one with terror which he struggled to hide away.

"I mean it. Can we put aside everything we messed up? We have to be clearer with each other to avoid misunderstandings."

Tsunade's lips parted but she did not know what to say. With a simple squeeze of her fingers and a single nod she agreed with the man.

"We will figure everything out, Tsunade. But in order for that to happen, you have to start trusting me."

* * *

[1] Twins. Originates from the word futa meaning two and go as the beginning of child. Two children: twins.


End file.
